


Two Princes

by ByTheAngell (SomeLittleInfamy)



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Royalty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-29
Packaged: 2021-02-25 03:07:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 36,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22068898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SomeLittleInfamy/pseuds/ByTheAngell
Summary: Magnus Bane and Lorenzo Rey are both high-ranking Princes of Edom, sent by Asmodeus and Lilith on a mission topside to take over neighboring kingdoms and spread their rule and influence over the mortals. They didn't expect Alexander Lightwood and Andrew Underhill, the princes of their respective mundane kingdoms, to be anything other than easy marks.Show up, fall in love, rule the kingdom. Only two of those things were what Asmodeus and Lilith planned for when they sent their sons topside to rule over mortals, and the one they didn't anticipate could turn this simple mission on its head.
Relationships: Lorenzo Rey/Andrew Underhill, Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 79
Kudos: 156





	1. Part 1 - A Wager is Made

**Author's Note:**

> ((A/N: Set in a time where there are kingdoms, and castles and knights… and nothing specific about the country or actual time period because I’m the worst at research and made most of this up as I went along. So if you’re a super stickler for historical accuracy I’m going to warn you now that this definitely not going to have that. Sorry, I’m the worst. 
> 
> ...not sorry for being inspired by a single image I saw on Twitter with Steve Byers looking like a Prince who really, really loves doilies enough to fuel an entire AU.))

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Cover art thanks to the talented [lightwoodbanemlm ](http://lightwoodbanemlm%20.tumblr.com) <3)

Peace - if the state of affairs in Edom can ever truly fall under that heading - is never permanent. It is always just a matter of time before it breaks once more, plunging the realm into the familiar pattern of chaos that consumed it, once upon a time, when the Greater Demons of the realm warred for dominance. Some of them gave up early upon realizing they did not have the strength to overpower the others. Some simply decided the effort wasn’t worth it, content to sit back and watch the others grow weary and suffer unimaginable losses. But no matter how often history repeats itself, in the end, it always comes down to the same two without fail. 

The feud between Asmodeus and Lilith is one that the demons of Edom - Greater, Lesser, and otherwise - are all too familiar with. Spanning across centuries, there seems to be no limit to how petty the two Greater Demons can be when it comes to dealing with one another and their respective realms. After multiple attempts by each side to overthrow the other (some of which lasted countless decades and depleted impressive numbers of demonic forces faster than any mortal hunters could ever dream of) a tentative peace has finally settled between them once more. Asmodeus keeps to his land, Lilith keeps to her’s, and for the most part, they stay out of each other’s way. 

It lasts longer than peace agreements of the past, but it doesn’t last forever. 

Nothing lasts forever. 

Ruling Edom is nice for a while. It’s familiar. It’s _theirs._ There’s more than enough for the two of them to share if they weren’t so incorrigible in their desires. But it’s impossible to be satisfied with what one has when there is so much out there to explore; so much more that _could be_ . When Lucifer proposes an effort to spread the demonic influence beyond Edom it is suggested in such a way that would require Asmodeus and Lilith to join forces... or at least agree to a truce between them substantial enough to ensure they can work _together_ without their usual underlying plots of sabotage which would jeopardize the greater goal of the mission. If they both fail at the hands of one another then Edom fails along with them. Many argue that perhaps the task should be given to another Greater Demon - or literally _any_ other demons - but they’re the strongest, and the logical choices despite obvious concerns. 

So Lilith and Asmodeus agree to meet. Surely they can come to some sort of arrangement, some sort of _agreement_ that will benefit them both equally? It isn’t as if they have much of a choice, after all. 

It’s only two hours into their first face-to-face encounter in decades when it becomes very clear this is much easier said than done. Magic flares from Lilith’s fingertips, barely contained in her anger. 

“You’re being impossible, Asmodeus.” Lilith is seething, the words spoken through clenched teeth. 

“No, you’re simply being stubborn. We both know I hold more power than you and you should be _grateful_ I’m agreeing to let you help at all instead of cutting you out of the plan entirely.” Asmodeus appears almost bored, looking down at the rings on his fingers as he moves each finger individually, methodically, as if stretching them requires great concentrated focus. 

The look on Lilith’s face is nothing short of a murderous rage as she digs her nails deep into the palms of her hands to keep from lashing out. Despite her best efforts the magic flares up around her clenched fists, consuming her hands. The guards in the room, several from both sides, all take a collective step forward, watching, waiting for the inevitable fallout. “ _Agreeing to--”_ she huffs. “This was _my_ plan, or have you forgotten? If anything, I’m the one allowing _you_ to assist. And if you’d rather not, which is more than fine by me, I’ll be on my way.” 

Lilith turns to leave, four guards falling in to surround her, two in front and two behind. All of them slow around her when Asmodeus’ voice gives Lilith pause, slowing her pace. 

“What if I were to propose a wager.” His words are low and drawn out, and there’s a hint of amusement behind them. A challenge. 

She doesn’t turn to face him, but she does stop walking. “I’m listening,” she says, raising an eyebrow he cannot see. They both know how dangerous these games between them can be but they’re both equally unable to help themselves. 

“We keep the plan. We send representatives topside with the assignment of inserting themselves into the ruling families of the mortals so that we may spread our influence beyond the realm of Edom. That much stays the same. _However_ ,” Asmodeus’ lips twist up, curling into a devious smirk. “We only send our very best, one each of mine and yours, to see who can complete the task first. The winner lays claim to the success of the plan and any future reign over the mortals on Earth.” 

It is, in Asmodeus’ mind, perfectly clever. He has faith in his people, but more than that he lacks any faith in the competency of Lilith’s followers. She coddles them too much, her mothering instincts making them too reliant on her, too soft. Without her to fall back on for that long any one of them will surely fail. And _when_ he wins - because to Asmodeus there is no _if_ in this scenario he’s devised- he’ll no longer have to fight her for a claim to the souls above. 

Best of all: he knows she’ll accept because if she doesn’t, that would be as good as admitting that he and his forces are superior and she’s afraid of the possibility of losing. Her stubborn pride will never allow it. 

Lilith takes a deep, controlled breath, teeth clenched during the moments she remains facing away from Asmodeus. She knows all of this as well as he does and there’s no denying that her hand is forced. She allows herself a few extra seconds of consideration, willing her mind to come up with any other way to spin this in her favor, but comes up empty. When she turns around it’s with a graceful yet dangerous smile, eyes narrowed like a lioness eyeing her prey. “Alright. My best against yours, winner takes dominion over the mortal realm above. Shall we wager for… a century?” 

Asmodeus considers how far he can push this without it backfiring. Perhaps a wager for eternity _would_ be a bit bold, especially if he ends up not wanting the prize in the end, should it prove not worth the hassle. They are mortals, after all, and he’d be foolish to not allow himself a contingency plan. 

“Agreed.” 

The two cross to meet back in the center of the room, Asmodeus pulling a knife from where it lay sheathed at his hip. None of the guards so much as bat an eyelash now. He waits expectantly for Lilith to hold her hand out towards him, placing a cut down the center of her right palm before repeating the action on his own. They shake, and a deep purple tendril of magic rises up and wraps itself around their hands, a cool tingle spreading through his blood before both fade almost immediately, the cuts healing in the process. 

Ever the gentleman, Asmodeus takes a handkerchief from his breast pocket and hands it over to Lilith. She takes it reluctantly, dabbing at the remnants of blood on her palm from the short time the wound was open. Civilly she hands it back, folded over so he may do the same. 

“We’ll reconvene here in one week with our chosen representatives,” Asmodeus declares while wiping his own palm clean.   
  
“I look forward to it,” Lilith replies, and this time she turns and leaves without looking back. 

Asmodeus waits until she’s gone before turning to exit the meeting chamber himself. 

“Summon the council,” he says to the nearest guard. “I have an idea.” 

\---

“Sir,” N’zall begins tentatively. Advising Asmodeus is not an easy position to hold, mostly because whenever someone disagrees with him over the wrong thing they have a tendency to end up _vanishing_ for quite some time. Potentially forever. However, if things begin to fall apart for the realm the same fate would befall those responsible for guiding the major decisions, so it’s really a lose-lose scenario for everyone involved. Everyone except for Asmodeus, of course.

If there was any say in accepting the position of advisor it would remain empty for all of eternity. As it stands, so far there haven’t been any demons who would dare to turn down the appointment and risk causing offence. 

“If I may,” N’zall continues just as reluctantly, now shifting his weight back and forth as he struggles to find the words they’re looking for. 

“Just spit it out already, N’zall, I haven’t got all day.” Asmodeus looks exasperatedly bored. He filled the council in not only on Lucifer’s original plan but also on the proposal Lilith agreed to, and they are currently discussing his choice for representative. Or they would be, if any of his apparently borderline-mute advisors were capable of speaking more than two words at a time. 

“It’s just that Magnus Bane isn’t… he doesn’t possess…” N’zall wonders if he shouldn’t just throw himself into the dungeon now and get it over with instead of voicing his concerns and hates that this is his first week here only to find himself immediately thrown into this chaotic set of circumstances. At least the others had a fighting chance at the start, months or years of peace where the most difficult decision they had to make was who to put on border patrol. 

“Your son is stubborn, Sir.” Drexel finally says with a heavy sigh. He’s the longest standing member of the council and at this point the only one who seems to know exactly when to speak up and when to keep his mouth shut. And this? This needs to be said. “He’s reckless and, if I may be honest,” he pauses here, searching Asmodeus’ expression for any sign that the Greater Demon may simply wish to be lied to for the sake of being appeased and continuing only when he finds none. “Which I believe you want, considering this is a wager with Lilith and I’m certain you are not taking it lightly.” 

“Get to the point, Drexel,” Asmodeus warns, voice low and the words nearly more snarl than speech. 

“I’m simply making sure you’re hearing us. And I mean, _truly_ hearing us here. If this is as important as you say it is, I believe we would all strongly advise _against_ choosing Magnus. He holds no true sense of loyalty to us. To _you_ . He’s too wild, and undoubtedly too unpredictable, for a mission of this scale.”  
  
“And he’d be up there alone all of that time,” N’zall finally seems to find his voice, encouraged by the fact that Drexel isn’t a pile of ashes on the floor. Yet. “You’ve seen how he gets while you’re able to exert immediate control over him. Imagine him running around unchecked?!” 

Asmodeus listens. He does. And he sees where they’re coming from. But… 

But. 

“Magnus is the most powerful of my children. He’s a Prince of Edom and no others will do to hold dominion over the realm above, even if the assignment is temporary. Now allow _me_ to be honest - who might you suggest in his place? Who would be of equal cunning and wit, of equal charm and grace, so as to insert themselves into a royal family? Who else would have the _stubborn determination_ to get by on their own for months, possibly years, and deal with any problems which may arise without the constant need of oversight?”

Their silence as they struggle to think of someone unfailingly loyal, but also not some mindless drone of a minion, is all the answer Asmodeus needs. None of his other children come close to comparing to Magnus. For good measure, he gives them several long, drawn-out seconds of increasingly uncomfortable silence before clapping his hands together to signal the end of the discussion. 

“So it’s settled, then. Go bring Magnus to my quarters. It’s time we have a little chat.” 

\---

“Absolutely not,” Magnus repeats for the dozenth time, his tone that of a petulant, whining child. This is going about as well as Asmodeus imagined it would. To his annoyance, Magnus actually _pouts_. “I refuse to be a pawn in your petty games with Lilith.” 

“Refusal suggests you have a choice in the matter. I’m not asking you to go, I’m telling you that you’ve been chosen. This is a direct order,” Asmodeus reminds him. 

Magnus glares. He knows that Asmodeus is right, on some level. He doesn’t want whatever punishment would follow refusing an assignment of this magnitude, Prince or not, but that doesn't mean he has to like it. It certainly doesn’t mean he has to accept it without a fight. 

“I assume the council told you not to choose me?” Leaning back in his chair Magnus folds his arms over his chest, crossing his legs at the ankles and propping them up onto the desk in front of him. Magnus already knows the answer. He just likes hearing it, taking great satisfaction in the fact that despite his best efforts to cause trouble he’s _still_ the one his father turns to time and time again to get things done. 

“They did.” This is their usual back-and-forth, a dance they go through whenever Asmodeus calls upon Magnus for anything of importance. 

“Good. At least you aren’t keeping total fools around these days.” There were times in years gone by when the chosen council lived in such fear of Asmodeus that they simply blindly agreed to everything and didn’t actually give him _any_ advice. It was Magnus who proposed what he deemed the “Bane Ban” - any council member who wouldn’t speak up against Magnus during one of his tumultuous periods should immediately find themselves removed from the council. Even Magnus is self-aware of when his antics cross the line he’s walked very carefully for his entire life. In fact, once in a while he goes out of his way to tarnish Edom’s reputation a little more than usual, just to see if they’re paying attention. 

Asmodeus continues in the wake of Magnus’ temporary pause. “But in the end, they agreed that you were the best choice even given your… rebellious tendencies. No one else comes close to your power or your skills at subtle manipulation.”  
  
“It does feel good to be acknowledged,” Magnus admits, stretching his arms back to link his fingers behind his head. 

“Lilith is choosing a representative of her own and I need to ensure we succeed before them. We absolutely _cannot_ lose to her, not with so much at stake. If you have any other suggestions for someone who would be more equipped to go in your place I’m all ears.” Asmodeus puts forth the same proposal he had given the council and gets the same response. 

Silence. 

_Shit_ . Magnus knows he’s stuck now, because even trying to think of someone _half_ as competent as himself is a struggle when one is surrounded by such mindless beings. Plus, a part of him wants to go even though he’ll never, _ever_ give Asmodeus the satisfaction of knowing that. He’s growing tired of Edom, tired of the monotonous day-to-day effort that being Edom royalty entails. Getting away from Edom for months, potentially years? That sounds glorious. He doesn’t want to rule beside Asmodeus and he makes that very clear every chance he gets to operate in direct opposition of his father. Ruling a kingdom on earth, while still in his father’s name, would at least give him some distance from the man who consistently makes his skin crawl. 

Plus, as much as he dislikes his father he truly _despises_ Lilith. The idea of allowing her an easy victory over his own realm, allowing her to tarnish a name that is partly his even if he does not wish for it to be, doesn’t sit well with him. He’ll never hear the end of it from her horrid spawn if she comes out on top of this wager between their realms; at least the one thing he has going for him as Asmodeus’ son is a well-earned sense of superiority and he’s hardly about to give that up without a fight. 

Magnus sighs in resignation. 

“Fine. When do I leave?”

\---

Lilith does not consult anyone before going directly to the current living quarters of Lorenzo Rey. One of her hardest workers and a dedicated son, he’s done everything asked of him for centuries. He’s never flinched away from a tough assignment, never once questioned a direct order from her. Though not her strongest of children when it comes to pure, unbridled power, she’s certain that his desire to move up in the ranks and prove himself worthy, both to her and to all of Edom, will be exactly the sort of driving force she needs here. After all, if done correctly there will be little need for brute force magic in this task, just perseverance and charm she knows he’s more than capable of when needed. 

“Lorenzo, darling. I’m afraid I need to send you topside for a little while.” 

He turns quickly at the sound of her voice in the open doorway. Within seconds he’s standing from his chair, hands clasped behind him as his posture straightens. The perfect soldier. “Of course, Lilith. Anything you need.”  
  
There is no debate, no fighting of the decision, no arguing of other plans or wants or desires. Lorenzo simply nods, accepts, and is already working through the mental process of preparing himself for whatever may come next. Lilith beams at her son, reassured beyond any lingering doubts that she’s making the right decision. 

“You’re going to infiltrate the royal family of a mortal kingdom. I need you in a place of trust, one of unquestionable loyalty, so that when the time is right no one will doubt the decisions you make to bring in the influences of our demonic realms - not just to your kingdom but to all those surrounding it. Our kind has hidden in secret for too long, it is time we assert our dominance beyond Edom.” 

“I understand,” Lorenzo says, but Lilith only shakes her head lightly. 

“Not fully. You see, you won’t be going alone. I’m choosing you, and Asmodeus-” Lilith notes with smug satisfaction the immediate way Lorenzo’s face screws up in distaste. “-will be choosing one of his own to send. The first one of you to succeed at the mission wins claim over the land.” Lilith pauses, eyes locked with Lorenzo’s. “So you see now, my son, why this is so _very_ important to me. To all of us.” 

“I understand,” Lorenzo repeats, but this time there’s a new fire behind his eyes and it’s clear that he understands completely this time. “When do I leave?” 

“We’ll have a week to prepare. I want to take that time go over some strategies, perhaps come up with a theoretical course of action… we haven’t sent anyone of status there in centuries, there’s a likelihood that you’ll be disconnected from your magic, at least at first. Don’t worry, we’ll prepare for as many variables as possible, though I trust you to make the right decisions once you’re up there. We’ll have limited contact if any at all, so I need to know that this is something you’re capable of handling on your own.” 

For the first time, Lorenzo hesitates. It isn’t that he doesn’t think himself capable, it’s simply that he operates under Lilith, to serve her. He does her bidding as she wishes, executing her orders to perfection time and time again. The idea of having to make those decisions on his own rather than simply carry them out is a lack of guidance he isn’t used to. It’s a risk he isn’t used to… what if he makes the wrong choices? What if, despite everything he’s worked so hard to achieve in Edom, he fails his first true test on his own? This is hardly a stepping stone of a mission - these are high, all-or-nothing stakes. 

Which is exactly why he has to do it. 

“It is,” he says after only a few moments of hesitation. “I won’t let you down.” 

\---

The week passes by quickly - much faster than either Lorenzo or Magnus would like it to. While Magnus is eager to escape his current life of being trapped under his father’s thumb within the confines of their realm, he isn’t particularly looking forward to the amount of actual _work_ this mission is going to require. Lorenzo, meanwhile, is facing the opposite struggle - he has no issues with the time and effort behind the assignment but wishes he could remain in Edom a little while longer. As far as the other is aware, however, both put on the show of being ready and eager for the task in front of them. 

There are two sharp knocks on the door before an impatient voice sounds off almost immediately to get Magnus’ attention. 

“Are you almost ready?”

Magnus looks up to see the unexpected appearance of Lorenzo Rey, his long, dark hair pulled away from his face by a band tied just above the base of his neck. His dark eyes don’t bother to mask his judgement as he looks down at where Magnus sits on the floor. Around Magnus are piles of clothing... no, piles is being too kind - there are heaps, quite possibly literal _mountains_ of shirts and pants and vests and shoes littering the floor to the point where the floor is, in fact, more clothing than stone. 

“What does one pack to go topside?” Magnus laments, leaning back dramatically against one of the piles behind him. There isn’t much space he could move where he _wouldn’t_ hit clothing, even if he hadn’t been aiming for it. “I heard the winters can be horrid and I don’t even _own_ a proper cloak.” 

“We can get clothing there. Mother instructed me to throw together any essentials, and I highly doubt your entire wardrobe is considered essential, even for you.” Lorenzo says the words with a raised eyebrow and Magnus pouts. 

“That’s easy for you to say, you wear the same thing every week. In fact, I’m not entirely convinced you don’t only own one outfit you just magic clean at the end of the day to wear again tomorrow.” 

“And so what if I do? There’d be nothing wrong with it - it’s practical. And not that it’s any of your business but I own a number of finely tailored outfits. I simply prefer this one for special occasions, which is obviously why you’ve only seen it when we’ve met for official business.” Lorenzo takes one last glance around the room. “I’m not here to discuss wardrobe options, Bane. I was just sent to tell you that they’re waiting on you, so I’d hurry up before Asmodeus decides to send someone else.”  
  
“...if only I could get so lucky,” Magnus mutters, and Lorenzo’s expression darkens from it’s casually teasing qualities before, glancing behind him to make sure no one is around to overhear. 

“Do you understand how _lucky_ we are to be chosen for this? It’s the assignment of the century! It’s all any of the other Greater Demons have talked about all week. Whichever one of us comes back from this victorious is going to live on in glory for centuries.” Lorenzo’s eyes glaze over with want. “Don’t ruin this for me, Bane. Some of us _need_ this. _Some of us_ have worked our entire eternal lives for this very opportunity.” 

Magnus looks up at Lorenzo, surprised by the sincerity in his tone. It’s no secret that Magnus is one of the most powerful of Asmodeus’ children; quite possibly _the_ most powerful, though no official rankings exist. Of all the demons in Edom, Magnus has the potential to be the most feared, to even rival the abilities of his father - except that’s not the life he wants, and from the moment he made that clear his existence in Edom became nothing but torturous assignments below his status time and time again. He does nothing but stand in opposition to his father, and yet somehow is still one of his favored children. A pet project due to his potential, no doubt. Meanwhile, he knows that out of all Lilith’s children Lorenzo is the perfect soldier. Any disagreements Rey may have with the way things are run he keeps a secret, carrying out his orders and moving up steadily up through the ranks. This mission is one Lorenzo most likely fought hard to acquire, and for a moment Magnus almost feels guilty that he’s been given it without even wanting it. Surely there are others among Asmodeus’ ranks clamoring for the opportunity. 

In truth, Magnus only agreed to get the chance to explore the world beyond the surface and escape this _quite literal_ hellhole for a little while. 

Magnus and Lorenzo are rivals, something which both amuses and confuses Magnus. Lorenzo wants the attention and prestige Magnus has, and it’s no secret. Magnus would gladly give it all to him if he could but because he can’t they’re constantly pitted against one another for titles and opportunities, and every time Magnus comes out on top Lorenzo’s resentment grows. Magnus doesn’t see why Lorenzo cares so much which only seems to agitate Lilith’s son further. 

Needless to say, they’ve gotten off on several wrong feet over the years. 

“Perhaps I could at least try,” Magnus agrees at length. “Not that it’ll be difficult - they’re mortals. How hard can it be to take over a kingdom or two?” 

“Considering how difficult it seems to be for you to pack a single bag, I’m not holding my breath. Now hurry.” Lorenzo’s gone from the door with that parting comment, leaving Magnus to pick the smallest pile of clothing and fold it neatly into a traveling bag along with some personal mementos. He stops in the doorway to give one last look around his room. He isn’t a fool - his father wants him out of his hair as much as Magnus wants to a chance to escape, and part of him wonders if this isn’t an elaborate set-up to rid Edom of him once and for all. He doesn’t know much about the world above the surface but he knows it can be dangerous, and he knows that others on similar missions have portaled out of Edom never to return. 

If this is the last time he sees this place, he can’t say he’ll be particularly heartbroken. This is the final thought Magnus Bane has on the matter before he closes the door of his quarters and heads to the portal. 

\---

Magnus and Lorenzo can sense the shared reluctance in one another as they meet in the middle of the portal chamber. Magnus eyes Lorenzo with a small smile after their previous conversation, and Lorenzo thinks for a moment he sees a hint of regret in Magnus’ eyes. He’s right - Magnus wishes that he’s faced with anyone other than Lorenzo Rey at this moment. He almost likes Rey, as much as he can like any of Lilith’s children. Magnus has tried time and time again to convince him to run off with him for a bit of trouble, to shirk his duties and live life for himself once and awhile, but every time Lorenzo turns down his propositions. He’s a good warlock, but there are moments Magnus can see that he’s too eager for the position he’s in. Lorenzo tries to hide it, he rarely allows it to affect his performance, but Magnus can just tell what Lorenzo has isn’t enough, and he doubts it ever will be. 

Lilith knows by this point that it’s Magnus Asmodeus selected to represent their realm - she’s known the entire week, he’d wager - and yet she makes a show of feigning surprise to mock him. Magnus thinks it’s a little sad, all things considered, that she isn’t above such things; he doesn’t have much room to talk, though, knowing his own father is just as petty when it comes to his interactions with Lilith and her children. 

“Magnus Bane? You’re pinning your hopes on _him_?” Lilith looks Magnus up and down, slowly and with careful scrutiny, and Magnus feels his skin crawl at the way she sizes him up. He’s never enjoyed being in the same space as her and this day proves to be no exception. 

“And I see you’ve gone with your favorite lap dog,” Asmodeus counters, his tone an icy calm, unphased by her obvious ploy to goad him into snapping at her. 

Magnus and Lorenzo exchange looks. This is a rivalry. They are rivals and their roles in this exchange are very clear. But that one look manages to convey a sense of familiarity, of a sympathetic kindred appreciation of their current discomfort over the way their respective parents are going about this, parading them around like some prized horses. 

“Can we just get this over with? I have a kingdom to take over,” Magnus interrupts before things can get too out of hand. Lorenzo looks over at him with a hint of gratitude they both immediately ignore. 

“Of course. Ever focused, as you should be,” Asmodeus agrees, smirking.

“Any questions before you leave?” Lilith inquires, and though it’s posed openly her eyes fall on Lorenzo as she asks. 

Magnus and Lorenzo share another look - there are dozens of things on each of their minds - before they turn to their respective parents and shake their heads back and forth exactly once. Anything yet unknown will remain so until they encounter the world above, and by then it’ll be too late to ask. 

“Very well. Best of luck, my son,” Lilith says, placing a quick, soft kiss on the side of Lorenzo’s cheek before stepping out of the markings drawn onto the floor below. 

“Make me proud.” Asmodeus gives Magnus a solemn nod, not moving from where he already stands outside of the sigils. There’s no embrace, no terms of endearment, not that Magnus expects any. 

Those are the last words either of them hear from their parents before the portal activates around them, flames rising high above where they stand, encircling them before seeming to consume them completely. When the flames subside the circle is empty. 

Lilith, much to everyone present’s surprise, appears to have tears in her eyes. 

“Your emotions were always your biggest weakness,” Asmodeus points out, scoffing at her attachment to the son she sent away. 

“But the devotion my love inspires is my family’s biggest strength,” she argues, bringing a hand up to delicately wipe under her eyes. “And it will be the very thing that secures Lorenzo’s triumph over Magnus Bane.” 

Asmodeus knows the gamble he took but there’s no point in questioning his decision now. What’s done is done and only time will tell which of them chose best. 

“I suppose we’ll see, won’t we?” Asmodeus says simply, dismissing her words with a shrug. 

“I suppose we will,” she agrees before taking her leave, finding no reason to remain here with him now that their business here is done. 

“Do you really think sending Magnus was wise, sir?” One of the guards asks once Lilith is sufficiently out of earshot. 

“Are you questioning me?” Asmodeus challenges, bringing a hand up in front of him, red tendrils of magic connecting from the tips of his fingers to where he lifts the demon guard up by the neck.

“No… sir… not at… all.” The guard chokes out, and after a few seconds of consideration, Asmodeus drops him with a flick of his wrist back down to the floor, a little worse for wear but still alive. He’s feeling generous. 

“Of course you weren’t. That would’ve been foolish of you. Now get back to work.” Asmodeus takes one last look at where his son stood just moments before. He has faith in him, or else he wouldn’t have sent him. Lilith made a solid choice too. Lorenzo is resilient and determined to earn his place next to her among the leaders of this realm, and Asmodeus admires his persistence and dedication. But Magnus… 

Asmodeus sighs. Magnus is his golden child. He holds all of the power, all of the skill and charm and a natural inherent ability to be everything that his brothers cannot. Magnus should be sat beside him to rule already, except he fights him at every turn. This is the last chance Magnus will have to prove himself a leader, and Asmodeus is well aware of the sink-or-swim nature of the task he’s thrown him into. 

Only time will tell if his decision will make or break his favorite son.


	2. Part 2 - Arrivals and First Impressions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Magnus and Lorenzo arrive on Earth and begin their journeys to the kingdoms they'll try to claim as their own. Prince Lightwood and Prince Underhill, both facing challenges of their own, find themselves faced with a decision to make regarding these new arrivals.

They’re transported to the surface almost instantaneously. It isn’t a painless process - the portals to and from realms never are, but it’s been long enough since the last time Magnus used one that he almost forgot just  _ how _ terrible they are. He can feel the muted burning of the flames around him, the swirl of his insides immediately making him nauseous during transport. 

They arrive on solid ground, the flames that rose up to claim them in Edom starting high around them before burning down to the ground and snuffing out to nothing, the sigils drawn on the floor by their parents now burned into the grass below, easily visible once the flames are gone. 

For what it’s worth, now that they’re both standing on the grassy hilltop of… well,  _ somewhere _ on Earth, both of them seem equally surprised to actually  _ be _ there, as if up until this point the entire situation was hypothetical enough to not fully sink in. 

Something feels off immediately. Magnus tests his magic but can’t seem to conjure even the smallest flicker of blue. Lorenzo, catching on to what he’s doing, attempts the same to no avail. 

“Alright then. No magic. That’s… fine,” Magnus says weakly. It’s anything but fine, however, and he’s never felt more out of his element in all of his very long life. One of the reasons he’s gotten this far in life is through sheer power; it might be a tad dramatic to say that without his magic he’s  _ nothing _ , but he’s feeling rather dramatic at the moment. Lorenzo seems almost entirely unphased by this development, which only fuels Magnus’ own doubts. 

Lorenzo frowns but speaks in a casual manner. “Well, we knew this might happen. I hoped Lilith might be wrong about this particular point, but-” Lorenzo’s words trail off after one look at Magnus’ face. “You didn’t know, did you?” 

There’s no trying to hide it - Magnus can’t erase the shock from his tone or the flash of panic he knows is written all over his face. Having to pack supplies makes so much sense now… how  _ dare _ his father not warn him of this possibility?! 

“Doesn’t matter,” Magnus mutters instead, doing his best to recover. He refuses to begin at a disadvantage, real or perceived. Asmodeus told him to bring essentials, obviously trying to encourage Magnus for some survival aspect without outright admitting this might happen, knowing that Magnus probably would’ve turned him down outright if he knew about this one rather large detail. 

Lorenzo looks as if he might push the subject but decides against it, finally settling on asking Magnus: “Do you think it’s permanent?” 

“I certainly hope not,” Magnus response immediately, giving his hand one last futile wave before dropping it to his side. 

Magnus suddenly has no desire to go through with this ridiculous task. Separating from Lorenzo, leaving them both alone and almost entirely defenseless in an unfamiliar land, goes against every survival instinct he has. 

...but returning to Edom without following through on their assignments would bring the wrath of Asmodeus and Lilith upon them both, a sure death sentence even for their favorite sons. Resigned, Magnus knows he can’t stall here forever, as nice as that thought may be. 

“May the best man win,” Magnus says with a wink before turning to his left and starting off. 

It only takes a few seconds before he hears Lorenzo’s voice behind him and the soft sound of footsteps shuffling through the tall grass. “Wait! Where are you even  _ going _ ?” 

Magnus glances around them and shrugs. “I have no idea. But standing on the top of a hill in the middle of nowhere certainly isn’t going to win me any crowns, so…” 

“So you’re just going to pick a direction and go?” Lorenzo questions. 

Magnus simply shrugs again. It isn’t as if they can portal up here, even if they  _ did _ have their magic, not without knowing a specific place to end up at. Unfortunately, thinking of ‘the nearest kingdom’ isn’t quite specific enough for that sort of spell. 

“Do you have a better idea?” Magnus asks before pausing. Lorenzo actually seems a bit worried about him, which isn’t fair because they aren’t here to be friends. In fact, they’re here to be the exact opposite. Magnus can’t allow himself to start caring about Lorenzo’s wellbeing in all of this  _ on top of  _ everything else he’s expected to accomplish. “Not that I care. This is supposed to be a competition. What does it matter what I do? We aren’t here to help each other. I go my way, you go yours, that’s sort of the whole deal.” 

“You better be taking this seriously, Bane. I’m not here to win by default while you nap for a few decades just to get Asmodeus out of your hair,” Lorenzo snaps before taking the hint and heading in the opposite direction. Magnus winces, but knows it’s for the best. 

“Jokes on you, Rey. I could nap for a few decades and  _ still _ beat you,” Magnus calls after him. 

To Lorenzo’s credit, he doesn’t look back. 

Magnus, though he’d never admit it, almost wishes he would. In fact, he almost wishes he took Lorenzo up on a possible better idea than aimless wandering, especially after the first two hours of nothing but field. 

“I can’t believe they wouldn’t just portal us directly outside a village…” Magnus mutters to himself, stifling a yawn. He pushes himself further until the endless sea of green grass gives way to a dirt path, one which grows steadily more worn the longer he follows it and eventually comes to follow alongside a stretch of forest. 

He’s convinced that this is it, the break he’s needed after hours of walking in a direction he previously only  _ hoped _ would take him in the direction of a town, or kingdom, or even just a single living being at this point. It’s only after pushing himself another hour that he realizes his mistake - there may be the start of a path now, but as he reaches the crest of another hill there’s still nothing but field. 

“They did this on purpose,” Magnus decides, wondering if this whole thing isn’t some cruel trick and that Asmodeus and Lilith placed them on an uninhabited patch of land to spend the rest of their lives alone. 

By the time he sees footprints and the markings of horse hooves on the ground - the first actual sign of a nearby town, Magnus is covered in a not inconsiderable amount of dirt from his travels. This is in large part due to the cat-naps he continually took whenever he simply didn’t feel like walking any longer, knowing that no real difference is going to be made over an hour or two extra in the grand scheme of this mission. Even so, he took great joy in imagining the way Lorenzo would inevitably be pushing himself to exhaustion to get to his destination as quickly as possible; Lorenzo’s always working too hard, always caring  _ too much _ about what’s thought of him and over being the best. 

If they weren’t meant to be direct rivals in this Magnus imagines he has a lot of advice he could have instilled in the poor guy before they parted ways, if Lorenzo wasn’t too stubborn to accept it. Such is life. 

He hears the sounds of the village before he arrives upon it properly, giving him just enough warning to find a patch of forest off to the side of the trail he’s been following and change clothes. Magnus holds his hands out in front of him to see if he’s regained any ability to use his magic - nothing. Not so much as a tingle as he concentrates on his wardrobe and attempts to change even the slightest detail of it with magic. 

At least he has his bag of personal effects with him. There isn’t much but it’s better than nothing, switching out the more comfortable travel clothing for something a little nicer. Wrinkled from travel the tunic he made certain to pack, one deep maroon and purple in coloring, immediately makes the statement that he isn’t some commoner off the street. Whether it’ll be convincing enough to gain him an audience with whoever rules over this Kingdom, well, that’s the test. The black pants he changes into are simple as well but thankfully clean of dirt. 

It’ll have to do. 

Stuffing the travel-worn clothing into the bag he slings it over his shoulder and heads back up to the main path, marching steadily towards the sounds of a busy village which grow louder with every step he takes. The volume matches the growing rumbles of his stomach as he realizes once the faintest scent of food reaches his nostrils that he hasn’t eaten in ages. 

As he approaches he can’t help but wonder how Lorenzo is faring.    
  


* * *

Lorenzo prepared for this as much as possible, but once he finds himself standing on a hilltop with no magic to call upon and nothing but a field as far as the eye can see he recognizes how useless it all was. And when he sees the look of fear on Magnus’ face when the realization hits them that they don’t have their magic he knows that as unprepared as he feels right now, Magnus must feel a million times more lost. 

For a moment Lorenzo considers trying to strike some sort of deal - maybe they can work together, or at least start off together, until they’re acclimated enough to split up. As much as he hates the fact that Magnus always seems to be one step ahead of him in Edom, Lorenzo has to admit that it’s given him something to strive towards, as annoying as that may be. To see Magnus’ normally confident-to-the-point-of-conceited bravado fade for even a second makes Lorenzo reconsider their likelihood of success. 

And then the doubt is gone, and Magnus is back to the way Lorenzo knows him best - insisting he’s fine and insinuating the inevitability of him winning no matter how hard Lorenzo tries. And Lorenzo, furious at the reminder, turns and leaves despite every rational thought in his mind telling him not to. It takes every last ounce of resolve he has not to look back, knowing Magnus will be waiting for any sign of weakness or second-thoughts. 

There’s a surprisingly large part of Lorenzo which laments the loss of the one familiar thing he has here as he begins his journey alone, but he doesn’t allow himself to dwell on it. Instead, he forces himself to focus on his surroundings; there has to be a sign, something to follow, something he should be noticing that he’s just missing. When nothing presents itself Lorenzo resigns himself to simply continuing in the opposite direction of Magnus and making his own way. 

He knows he has an immediate advantage. Where Asmodeus and Magnus’ relationship with one another caused Magnus’ father to trick him here unprepared, Lorenzo and Lilith share a mutual trust and understanding that starts Lorenzo off with everything he needs, physically and mentally. 

Except even with everything in his favor, after the first few hours he’s growing concerned that he’s never going to find anything. Turning back now, if there is a kingdom in the opposite direction, would only land him there well after Magnus, and thus be entirely pointless. Unless… the idea of going after the  _ same _ Kingdom is a tempting one. Lorenzo closes his eyes and tries to picture it playing out, but even his own imagination betrays him with the inevitability of Magnus out-maneuvering him the way he always does. Opening his eyes again to the reality before him Lorenzo sighs. No, his best bet is to stake his own claim somewhere he can hold his own influence, not somewhere he’d be too busy watching his back for Magnus Bane to usurp his efforts. 

Lorenzo rations the food he has stored in his bag, which is a strategy he appreciates more each day that passes without a sign of a town. After several hours the first day Lorenzo hopes to find a town by nightfall. After a day he shifts that hope to finding one by the next full night, and then by the next, until he admits to himself he’d be grateful to so much as see footprints in the ground from another person or wheel marks… anything other than wild animal prints. 

His journey takes him four full days until he comes across the first sign of life beyond the rolling hills he travels. He doesn’t rest as much as he should, pushing himself forward with a mixture of hope that those extra minutes might save him another cold night outside, as well as paranoia when it comes to sleeping in the open, feeling too defenseless without his magic. Even when he manages to find the shelter of a patch of forest it isn’t enough to ease his mind enough for proper rest. 

He’s near-delirious between the hunger and sleep deprivation when he finally stumbles upon the outskirts of a village. Unfortunately, a man on horseback carting wood in from the nearby woods comes across Lorenzo before he has a chance to make himself presentable. When he’s offered a ride the rest of the way to the village on the back of the cart with the firewood he knows he shouldn’t take it, not if he wishes to present himself as a Royal, but he’s too weary to turn the offer down. 

So instead of a grand entrance, Lorenzo arrives at the kingdom that is to be his while asleep among the logs and debris on the dirty floor of a commoner’s cart. 

* * *

Magnus holds himself with nothing but confidence upon entering the small village. Now that he’s here, walking in among the first of many small, modest homes, he can see the castle in the distance. So close, and yet… 

“Who are you?” A woman demands, grabbing a young girl by the hand and pulling the child closer to her and away from Magnus. “You’re not from around here.” 

“No, I’m not,” Magnus admits. “My name is Magnus Bane, and I’m…” he pauses for just a moment, considering his options before making a hasty decision. “A prince, from Edom.” 

The mortals don’t know of his people, and if they do it’s nothing but rumors of a time long forgotten, only stories to be told around a fire at night to scare children. Edom, along with the true nature of demons and the Chthonian tongue, is nothing more than a whisper lost in time to these people.

Magnus finds amusement in not even needing to lie, perhaps  _ never _ needing to outright lie, but he keeps the satisfaction he feels to himself and his expression carefully neutral. 

The woman’s eyes widen at the statement, not because of  _ where _ he’s from but rather  _ what  _ he claims to be, and he can see the confusion cross over her. On one hand, if he is Royalty then she shouldn’t be speaking to him so casually. But on the other, she doesn’t know him enough to trust him. Also-

“I’ve never heard of Edom,” the woman points out. 

Magnus hums in response. “No, I imagine you wouldn’t have,” he muses. “Father does like to keep to himself. No one bothers you if they don’t know you exist, after all.” He gives the woman a wink and she eases slightly. “Be a dear and tell me, where might one go to request an audience with the King and Queen?” 

“...you really kept to yourself in that Edom of yours, didn’t you?” she says slowly. 

Magnus raises an eyebrow. “What does that mean?” 

“It’s just that all the neighboring kingdoms seem to know about the Lightwoods, no matter how much they try to cover it up. Gossip spreads like an out of control flame around these parts,” she sighs. “The King and Queen are, temporarily, not holding residence together. It’s all quite messy and not my place to speak of, especially not to other royalty. But their son Alexander is handling things in their stead and you may request an audience with him if you wish.” 

Magnus nods. “Thank you. You’ve been a great help, Miss…” 

“Rouse,” the woman supplies. 

“Miss Rouse. Thank you again.” 

With that Magnus heads further into town, wondering what sort of Kingdom he’s walking into, and if this may be more trouble than it’s worth from the very start. 

\---

An audience with Prince Alexander Lightwood, it seems, is difficult to come by. He’s told the wait could be days, possibly weeks if the request is accepted, and that Prince Lightwood doesn’t accept them frequently, if at all. It’s all Magnus can do to give a small statement to a young man - an eager squire who takes down his name and who he claims to be without much question, promising to put the request forward. 

It’s only when the young man asks where he can reach Magnus again to relay any news of the response that Magnus realizes he has nowhere to stay… mostly because he has no money to pay for a room.   
  
“I’ll get back to you on that, Samson,” Magnus says, already turning back towards the town. “But if the Lords of Edom are on my side, I should be at the Inn.” 

“It’s Simon-” the squire tries to correct, but Magnus is already starting off down the road. 

...the Lords of Edom, as it turns out, are most certainly not on Magnus’ side. He is forcibly removed from the local Inn while shouting about how they couldn’t appreciate a fine fabric if their lives depended on it, after trying unsuccessfully to barter his way into a room with the few possessions in his bag. 

Magnus stands himself up from where the last violent shove out of the front door left him stumbling to the ground, brushing the dirt off of his pants indignantly. It’s only then that a man sitting outside playing some sort of stringed instrument catches his attention by laughing. 

_ Laughing at him _ . 

The man is beautiful, and Magnus decides very suddenly to switch his approach. “Please tell me someone with such outward beauty isn’t ugly enough on the inside to laugh at the misfortune of others? The world shouldn’t be so cruel…” Magnus says, turning on every last ounce of charm he possesses and throwing in a quick up-and-down of the man for good measure. 

This seems to amuse the musician. “Only if you tell me the same, seeing as you’re the man who was just thrown from the local inn for shouting threats upon the owner - who just so happens to be my sister.” 

“Your--  _ ah _ . That was all just a… misunderstanding, you see.” Magnus falters for just a moment before making a swift recovery in this light of this new opportunity. “Which I would love to explain over dinner, should you know of anyone willing to trade for anything in my bag, as I’m afraid I have no proper currency.” 

Not for the first time since his arrival, Magnus cursed Asmodeus for not warning him that his magic may be useless here so that he could set aside room for gold or coins, certain that Lorenzo had done just that and was probably sitting pretty in a lavish room by now, plotting away at his victory.

“Hmmm… may I see the bag?” The man asks, reaching out. 

Magnus hesitates with it in his hands. He doesn’t know this person and the bag is, quite literally, everything he has to his name up here. Sensing his hesitation the man laughs, the sound as melodic as the music he was playing moments before. 

“Here, you can hold my charango while I look. My sister would gladly trade that for a month’s stay at the Inn should I happen to make off with your bag of apparently worthless clothing.” 

“Alright,” Magnus agrees at length, holding the bag out and taking the instrument in return. He plucks at the strings while the musician goes through his belongings, playing a light tune he hums from memory. He pretends not to notice the way the beautiful man cringes at his playing, his notes becoming louder and bolder instead. 

“How about a new proposal,” the man says, frowning as Magnus continues to strum at the strings. “I cook you dinner and offer you room for the night, under the strict promise you never touch a charango again.” 

Magnus looks offended. “I am  _ not _ that bad,” he insists. 

“You are. And if I were you, I’d take the deal, for all of our sakes.” 

Magnus wants to be indignant but he isn’t in a position to argue. “Alright, you have a deal,” Magnus agrees. “Thank you,” he adds, a bit softer now. Despite the insult, it’s an act of kindness he truly appreciates. “I don’t even know your name yet…?”

“Imasu,” the musician supplies. “Imasu Morales, at your service, Sir...” 

“And what gives you the impression I’m a ‘Sir’?” Magnus asks, given the sorry state of his current affairs. 

“Heard you shouting about it from the Inn when they turned you away,” Imasu admits. “Not sure I believe you, but I figured it couldn’t hurt in case you were one of those ‘touchy about your title’ sorts.” 

“Usually I am,” Magnus admits. “But for you, I’ll make an exception. I’m Magnus Bane, but please, you may simply call me Magnus.” 

The rest of the night is pleasant. They share a meal, find that they actually get along quite well, and though Magnus insists he’s fine sleeping with some blankets on the floor (it beats the chill outside exposed to the elements, after all) after indulging in a bit too much drink they end up sharing Imasu’s bed instead. 

Waking up the following morning to a loud pounding on the door does nothing for the dull headaches they both suffer. Imasu goes to open the door and Magnus remains in the bedroom recounting the night before with a small smirk, only to be jolted back to reality upon hearing his name. 

“I was told Prince Bane could be found here,” says a voice from the doorway. Magnus quickly slips on the same clothing from the day before after a bit of searching around the room, making his way out to where the squire stands just beyond the doorframe. 

“And who told you that?” Imasu demands. 

“Your sister. The Inn was the first place I went looking, but she advised me to check here next, and --- oh thank the Angels, there you are,” Simon says with a sigh of relief. “I was afraid I’d have to come back empty-handed, and Prince Lightwood was very eager to meet with you as soon as you can make it today.” 

Imasu gapes. “People have been waiting for months to meet with the Prince and he’s agreed to an audience with you  _ already? _ ” 

Magnus practically preens at the news, knowing from what he heard how rare this is but choosing to act unfazed as if he never had a single doubt. “Of course he has, why shouldn’t he?” 

Imasu shakes his head, muttering, “Royals. They’re all the same.” 

Sensing the shift in Imasu’s entire tone Magnus frowns, not sure what he’s done wrong in the short period of time it took him to roll out of bed and now. 

“What’s wrong?” Magnus asks, though he doesn’t have much time to dwell on it because Simon is there again, urging him forward. 

“Enjoy your meeting,” is the only answer Imasu gives, tossing him his bag from where it rests on a chair from the night before. 

Shaking his head in confusion, Magnus turns to follow Simon out to where two horses are waiting for them. 

“It didn’t look like you had a horse of your own when you arrived, so I took the liberty of bringing you one for the trip to the castle. It’s much too impractical on foot if it can be avoided,” Simon says. 

Magnus, having never actually ridden a horse before, takes several small steps towards the animal with a cautious smile and slow movements. Even so, the moment he’s about to touch the horse it reels away from him instinctively. Rather than give chase Magnus allows the horse his space for a moment before trying again, this time whispering under his breath, “Hey there, fella. I’m not going to hurt you. I just really, really need you to let me ride you. Okay?” 

Animals, much like demons, are instinctive creatures. Magnus knows who he is, he knows  _ what _ he is, and just because he cannot use his magic at the moment doesn’t mean there isn’t still demon blood coursing through his veins. But the talking helps, and after a minute of soothing words and a silent prayer to Below, he puts a foot in the stirrup and swings his leg over. 

The horse fidgets underneath him but Magnus leans over to calm him again. 

“Animals don’t like you much, do they?” Simon asks once they start off. 

“They like me just fine,” Magnus says. “It just takes a bit of warming up.” 

The ride up to the castle is mostly silent, with Simon piping up to offer little tips for his meeting with the Prince: things not to bring up (like Alexander’s father), things the Prince enjoys to bring up if the conversation takes a bad turn (like archery), and other small pieces of advice. 

“Why are you telling me all of this?” Magnus asks, both out of curiosity as well as to get a small break in Simon’s seemingly endless chatter about his Prince. 

“Honestly? Alec-- Prince Alexander hasn’t agreed to see anyone in weeks. It isn’t good for him to stay locked away like that. I don’t know why he agreed to meet with you over the dozens of other requests that await his attention, but whatever the reason, I just want it to go well, you know?”

Magnus doesn’t know - in fact, Simon has been speaking for so long he’s tuned in and out of the conversation at least half a dozen times. But he nods just the same which seems to be the reaction Simon is looking for. 

Simon continues to do most of the talking the remainder of the trip up to the castle. Magnus listens, he absorbs as much as he can in the hopes that some of it might become useful, but for the most part, it seems as if Simon just talks. A lot. About literally anything, and quite a lot of it is rather useless to him… probably to anyone, actually. It’s a small wonder Simon has any voice left by the time they arrive at the castle’s drawbridge. 

“A  _ moat _ ,” Magnus observes, smirking. “Does this Prince Alexander have a lot of enemies that he requires such fortification?” 

“Sort of. LIke I said, it isn’t the Prince so much as, well, his entire family. Not just his parents, either. It sort of runs through, uh, a lot of generations.” 

“But the Prince isn’t like his parents?” Magnus repeats, not without a tone of disbelief. He knows how these things work, how the children inherit the sins of their fathers. He knows because he’s guilty of enough of it no matter how much he doesn’t want to claim his own lineage - he’s here by his father’s request, isn’t he? 

“Not by a long shot, though you’d have to get pretty close to him to realize it,” Simon admits. 

Magnus wonders how close he’ll be able to get. After all, he’s here to weasel his way into a place in the royal family, to take over this kingdom for his own. If they’re already struggling, already in turmoil and untrusting of the family holding the reigns, this may be a goal more easily accomplished than he first imagined. 

There’s a distinct tension in his stomach upon entering the castle that Magnus is quick to write off as excitement rather than anxiety. He’s kept in a waiting room for nearly half an hour before being brought to the throne room for his audience with the Prince. 

Magnus isn’t sure what he’s expecting, but it certainly isn’t the tall figure in front of him, one made even more imposing by his ramrod straight posture and narrowed eyes, clothed in all black. Normally royals overdid it on the colors and gold and jewels to show their stature, but Prince Alexander dresses with a simplicity that throws Magnus off entirely. 

“Is he in mourning?” Magnus whispers to Simon, who is the one still leading Magnus from place to place. 

“No, Alec just insists on dressing in black. I’m pretty sure it’s all he owns-” Simon starts to answer back, but cuts his words short at the glare the prince levels him when he sees the two of them whispering. Wondering if the prince doesn’t like the idea of his errand boy gossiping with a visitor, or whether he specifically took offense to the discussion of his wardrobe, Magnus fights back a grin. 

“Your Highness, may I present to you Magnus Bane, Prince of Edom,” Simon announces once they’re a few feet closer, stopping to bend at the waist and swing an arm out to the side to present Magnus with a bit of flourish he greatly appreciates. 

“Thank you, Simon. You are dismissed.” 

Magnus watches Simon straighten and nod before turning to leave. “Thanks for the chat,” Magnus says under his breath. Simon doesn't respond, but the flash of a smile shows he heard him. 

They wait for Simon to exit the room before Alexander speaks again. 

“So…” Prince Lightwood begins slowly, eyeing Magnus up and down in careful consideration. Magnus, for his part, does the same now that he’s close enough to pick up more details on the Prince. 

And what stunning details they are, with full lips slightly red from worrying near the corner,  and hazel eyes that fixate on Magnus as if he were the only thing to look at for miles. Wild hair that looks as if every effort was made to control it and yet it refuses to sit flat gives the prince a slightly dishevelled edge, as does the hint of stubble on his face. Magnus itches to reach out with his magic and fix a stray lock when he remembers that he doesn’t have access to his magic here. 

As if that thought suddenly shifted his entire physique, Magnus is also acutely aware of how exhausted he is, of the weight behind his eyes and the ache in his legs. 

Alexander can tell, reading the sudden shift in his posture like an open book. “Tired, Mr. Bane?” 

“That’s Prince Bane, Your Highness,” Magnus corrects. He needs to play the role, after all. “But you may call me Magnus if that suits you better. May I call you Alexander?” There’s a smile on Magnus’ face, one that hints at something playful, and the only sign that Alexander enjoys the attention is the briefest upwards flicker at the corners of his lips. 

“You may not,” Alexander says, and it’s with the practiced steely resolve of someone who’s said this time and time again, someone who has defended himself and his position until exhaustion. Magnus feels for him and doesn’t push the point. 

“Of course, Your Highness. And to answer your question: yes, it’s been a long journey to reach you with some… unexpected physical tolls.” Magnus admits. 

He thinks that Alexander might offer him a seat, or relocate their meeting, but instead, he simply catalogues that information away and moves on. 

“And why did you make such a long journey to reach me?” Alexander questions. 

“I wanted... to learn from you,” Magnus begins slowly, building the lie on the spot. “I heard such impressive stories of your kingdom, tales of brave knights and worldly scholars, I could think of no other kingdom I would rather go to spend my days.” Flatters, Magnus has long since learned, will get one almost anywhere. It doesn’t need to be true, it just has to win over the intended target. 

Alexander considers Magnus and then, finally shakes his head. “I don’t believe you.” 

Magnus balks. “What?” 

“I said I don’t believe you,” Alexander repeats simply. “And I don’t have time to waste on someone who is going to request an audience with me just to lie to my face, so-” 

“Fine!” Magnus says, cutting the prince off mid-sentence. It seems as if he underestimated exactly who he’s dealing with, which is fair considering he really has little clue who he’s dealing with outside of what Simon told him. So if being turned away is going to be the current result of his attempt to win Alexander over with flattery then Magnus figures he has nothing to lose by sliding by with more generic versions of his truth. “You want the truth? My father sent me away, essentially banished me, and now I have to make do on my own. He’s insufferable and never happy and honestly, I’d rather be homeless than rule beside him. So when I heard you were also left to fend for yourself I thought I might be able to help. We could help each other.” 

_ That  _ Alexander considers for much longer. When he speaks again it isn’t about Magnus, or his father or his kingdom. “And what have you heard of me? What are people saying?” he asks hesitantly. 

Magnus can tell how much he cares, just as Simon told him. But sometimes caring isn’t enough. And thankfully, in this case, it’s something Magnus can use to his advantage to get exactly what he needs out of Alexander. 

“They like you. They know you’re trying, and from what I’ve heard you were left to pick up quite a few shattered pieces of this kingdom. I know a thing or two about cleaning up messes left behind by others. Let me help,” Magnus offers again. He leaves out the part where most of his cleaning up involved easy fixes with magic he doesn’t currently have access to - that’s a bridge he can cross when he comes to it. For now, he just needs Alexander to agree to let him stay. 

“And what do you want in return?” Alexander questions warily. 

“Room and board,” Magnus requests. 

“I can’t invite a stranger - a prince from a country no one here’s heard of no less- into the castle. Only a fool would trust someone they only just met with free reign here - what if you’re a spy or a thief.”

“Do you think I’m a spy or a thief, Prince Lightwood?” Magnus questions. 

“I don’t know what to think just yet. So let me strike a deal with you. You may borrow one of my horses, and rather than rooming here you shall stay at the Inn in the village as my guest for now. If I find you useful and your offer genuine, then we’ll see about other arrangements.” 

“And if you don’t?” Magnus questions, out of curiosity rather than actual fear of that particular outcome. 

“You’ll be banished from your second kingdom in as many weeks,” Alexander states simply. Magnus has no doubt that he isn’t making idle threats, either. 

“Well then, it’s a good thing I know how to make myself  _ very useful _ ,” Magnus says, throwing in a wink for good measure. 

Alexander looks momentarily flustered by the suggestive tone though he does his best to hide it, betrayed only by the slightest tinge of pink to his cheeks. 

“Is that you accepting the offer, then, Prince Bane?” Alexander says, refocusing back in on the task at hand. 

“It is, Prince Lightwood,” Magnus agrees. “Shall we start now?” 

“I’m afraid I’m tied up for the remainder of the day,” Alexander says. “But I’ll call for you tomorrow. Be ready early.” 

Nodding, Magnus makes a mental note that he should probably not be found in some stranger’s bed the following morning. “I’ll be eagerly awaiting your call, Your Highness.” 

Magnus bows, because it’s polite and also because it feels like just the right level of dramatic flourish to end this encounter with, before walking backwards out of the room, never breaking his eye contact with Alexander or dropping the slight smirk that plays at the corners of his lips as he does. 

Once outside he finds Simon already waiting for him. “Let’s find you a horse, shall we?”

Magnus practically beams as he follows Simon to the stables. Perhaps things are looking up after all. 

* * *

Lorenzo wakes up in an unfamiliar room. It takes a few moments after the initial panic of that revelation settles enough to take stock of his surroundings; even though the room he’s in is rather bare, the place as a whole is probably extremely lavish. He’s definitely in a bedroom, most likely a spare meant for guests as there’s little in it besides a wardrobe, a desk and chair, and the bed itself. The actual walls, however, are made of hearty stone and the trimmings around the window and doors lavish and expensive, which would lead him to believe the same to be true of the other rooms here as well. 

Wherever ‘here’ is. 

He remembers getting on a cart for a ride to the nearest town and then… well, he must’ve been more exhausted than he thought because Lorenzo remembers nothing between that moment and this, which means someone must’ve carried him here to this bed and--

\--and changed his clothing as well, because he isn’t wearing what he traveled in, that’s for certain. The door to the room he’s in is open and he can see a figure sitting in a chair just outside of it, armored and armed.

A guard. 

He’s being  _ guarded _ . 

_ Of course I am, _ he chides himself.  _ I was brought into some stranger’s home entirely unconscious, I should be thankful they didn’t ditch me in the woods or take my traveling sack to pawn for money.  _ He thinks upon seeing it slung over the chair by the desk looking just as full as it should. He gets out of bed and goes over just to be certain, and sure enough, every hand-woven article of clothing, as well as the gems and gold pieces he brought for any necessary trading, are still present. 

The guard, upon hearing movement in the room, pokes his head in and looks Lorenzo over. “Please remain in your room while I go tell His Highness you’re awake.” 

The door shuts… then Lorenzo hears a click in the lock of the handle. Going over to give the knob a turn he finds, unsurprisingly, that it won’t open. 

“So that ‘please’ wasn’t a request, I see,” Lorenzo mutters to himself, fighting back the same panic that tries to rise immediately through a tightening in his chest. And then the rest of that sentence registers and Lorenzo realizes he’s been taken directly to… the King? Nobility of some form, if not. He’s locked in a room where some sort of royalty resides. Does this mean he’s being held as a prisoner? 

He isn’t in an actual cell, which is a good start. He may not be the most familiar with mundane culture and customs but he’s pretty certain even normal humans don’t keep prisoners in rooms with proper beds and personal belongings and change them into comfortable sleepwear. So while the guard goes to get whoever ‘His Highness’ ends up being, Lorenzo paces a bit back and forth next to the bed. 

Lorenzo is able to hear voices approaching and inches closer to the door to eavesdrop. 

“We absolutely cannot allow a foreigner to stay in the castle. If the Queen and King hear you even brought him here in the first place-” 

“Think of how that would look, to toss someone on the brink of collapse back onto the streets of the village.” The voice that replies is soft but firm. “The royal family could use a bit of good will. He’s harmless. He’s weak. Would it kill you to be kind to him so I can spin this into something positive?” 

“We have rules for a reason, Sir _.  _ If I let just anyone in off of the street- _ ”  _

“He had a  _ lot _ of expensive items in his possession. Maybe helping him will pay off in more than good karma.” A male voice, higher-pitched than the first but full of condescension, returns. “You may be in charge of the security, Andrew, but remember who makes the final calls until your parents return.” 

“I understand. I’ll… speak with him.” 

The voices quiet and two sets of footsteps stops near the door while one other carries on down the hallway and out of earshot. 

Lorenzo tries to use his magic again but still finds himself entirely unable, which is the most unsettling part of all of this. He feels completely helpless without it, entirely at the whims of the world around him. He’s so out of sorts due to it that he actually  _ jumps _ at the sound of the key turning in the lock again before the door starts to swing open, only to stop short and shut again. Lorenzo levels it with a confused expression before a voice on the other side follows the pointed clearing of a throat. 

“Is it alright to come in, Sir?” The voice asks through the reclosed door. It’s the voice of the man who, from what Lorenzo could gather, wanted to kick him out sight unseen. Lorenzo finds it odd that they’re asking for permission to enter a room in their own residence when he realizes they’re making sure he’s decent first, which strikes a rather endearing chord compared to what he overheard moments before. 

“Yes, of course,” he calls back and takes the moment to stop himself from pacing just before the door swings open fully. 

Of course, nothing can prepare Lorenzo for the pure beauty of the man who walks in, dressed to perfection in rich blue and gold fabric that perfectly compliment the golden curls framing either side of his face. Lorenzo stares a few seconds too long, perhaps, but imagines the man has to be used to it. 

Though judging from how he looks away from Lorenzo’s gaze for a moment before glancing back, not making full eye contact... maybe he isn’t. 

Lorenzo drops his own gaze, allowing it to wander the room a bit before falling on the guard who now stands on the inside of the door.   
  
“Am I a prisoner here?” Lorenzo asks, not sure why that’s the first question that decides to leave his lips but once it does there isn’t any taking it back. 

The blonde man follows Lorenzo’s gaze to the guard and then turns it back on Lorenzo, considering him. “No,” he says finally. “Raj, you’re dismissed.” 

The guard - Raj - hesitates at first, not making any move to leave and looking like he wants to protest. Surely he also knows it isn’t his place to question. “Your Highness, are you sure that’s-” 

“I wouldn’t have said it if I wasn’t certain,” the blonde insists, though there’s the slightest waver to his voice that betrays that very uncertainty despite the stubbornness in his decision. 

Raj nods and removes himself from the room, but keeps the door open. 

That’s one problem down. Just roughly a dozen more to go, by Lorenzo’s quick mental count of everything that’s gone horribly wrong in whatever semblance of a plan he set off with from Edom. The second major point being: 

“Pardon my ignorance, as you’re clearly a member of the royal family, but I’m afraid I don’t know where I am. Or who you are,” Lorenzo admits. 

The man in front of him looks surprised by this. “Oh? I didn’t realize- not that I expect immediate recognition, just that- well, yes, I suppose I normally expect people to recognize me,” he finishes lamely, but not unhappily. “I’m Andrew Underhill, Prince of Idris.” 

Prince. Lorenzo can’t believe his luck, being hand-delivered to the Prince entirely on accident. 

“You were brought in on the back of one of our carts. The servant who found you said you looked seconds away from collapsing. What were you doing out there by yourself in such a state?” Prince Underhill questions, and though there is some concern in the Prince’s tone Lorenzo can’t quite decide if it’s concern over Lorenzo’s condition, or over his unexplained presence here. 

Lorenzo hesitates. He only just woke up and didn’t prepare any sort of story or alibi to explain who he is and what he’s doing here. 

“I don’t remember much,” he says, stalling. The fewer details he gives the better, and that’s when the idea comes to him. “I remember that my name is Lorenzo, but everything else is...” Lorenzo does his best to look helpless as he allows the words to trail off. He hasn’t thought this far, not intending to wake up in a castle with a Prince the moment he’s conscious. 

“You don’t remember anything from before you were found out there? Perhaps you were injured in your travels… amnesia is very rare, but I’ve heard of cases. We can have my physician look at you to see,” Prince Underhill offers, now sounding even more concerned. “You didn’t have any identifying papers in your possession, either, so I’m afraid there’s no help there.”

Lorenzo’s eyes dart to his bag, and the Prince’s gaze follows, realizing what he just admitted to. “Apologies for going through your things, but we had to be certain you weren’t armed before allowing you into the castle. We did confiscate the dagger you had, you may have it back when you leave of course.” Prince Underhill doesn’t seem particularly bothered by the admission, and why should he? 

“Of course,” Lorenzo agrees. “Thank you, Your Highness. For taking me in. I’m sure someone in your position could’ve easily turned me away or left me elsewhere to fend for myself. Your hospitality is greatly appreciated.” 

The prince nods. “You’re welcome. If I’m being honest… the King and Queen don’t  _ exactly _ know you’re here. I can’t say they’d approve of the decision - they don’t tend to trust outsiders.” 

Lorenzo raises an eyebrow. “And you?” 

“I don’t tend to trust outsiders, either,” Prince Underhill admits. At least Lorenzo knows the prince’s honesty was not just for when he thought he wasn’t being listened to. “But you’re alone and unarmed, and one never knows when something like this is a test of the Angel’s will - to show kindness rather than indifference. So you tell me - is it a mistake to trust you?” 

“I certainly hope not,” Lorenzo says, grinning. If he weren’t in this to beat out Bane once and for all he may feel a twinge of guilt for lying, insisting he can be trusted while riding on the coattails of this belief that he may have amnesia, but he can’t bring himself to care very much when this is a clear first step towards a sure victory. 

Prince Underhill considers him for a moment before giving a final nod. “Then I’ll trust you, for now. You will have to forgive that, if you do travel through the castle at all today, you’ll be accompanied by a guard.”    
  
“I thought you trusted me?” Lorenzo countered, a careful but teasing smile on his face. He needs to win this Prince over sooner rather than later, and refuses to waste this opportunity. 

“I trust you as much as I can trust a man who doesn’t remember who he is,” Prince Underhill amends. “I do have a Kingdom to protect, after all.” 

“Fair enough,” Lorenzo agrees with an amiable nod of his head. “Perhaps, if you find yourself with free time, you could escort me yourself? I’m a fan of histories, and I’m certain this castle must be rich with it.” 

“And how do you know that, if you don’t remember anything about yourself?” 

“Instinct?” Lorenzo suggests. “I’m sure there are plenty of things about yourself that are second nature to you. Maybe they’ll start to come back to me and I’ll remember more.”    
  
“Maybe,” Prince Underhill says, and there’s something strange in his tone that Lorenzo can’t place. Not quite suspicion, but something close. “I have a meeting I must attend, but maybe afterwards we can meet for lunch. I can show you some of the grounds while we discuss what we’re going to do with you.” 

Lorenzo frowns. What would Prince Underhill do with him? After all, taking him in was very kind... a bit too kind, Lorenzo thinks personally. He wouldn’t have done the same if their roles were reversed and he knows it, so he doesn’t want to push his luck with the hospitality already offered. But he needs it to continue. 

He has to find a way to stay here. 

And he has until lunch to figure it out. 

“I’ll see you then, Your Highness,” Lorenzo says with a bow, watching the prince turn and leave before shutting the door behind him to change out of the sleepwear and into something much more impressive. 

He has work to do. 

\---

Lorenzo takes an indulgent bath in the time he has to spare, washing himself clean of the dirt from his travels. Though someone took the care to remove his dirty clothes and wash, dry, and return them to him the signs of the outdoors he wandered still cling to him, and just ridding himself of the thin layer of dust and earthy stench makes a world of difference. Dressing into an outfit he has in his pack he wishes suddenly he brought something more elaborate than black and silver. The neutral colors seemed like a good choice back in Edom before he saw the brilliant blue and gold of Andrew Underhill’s outfit. Lorenzo thinks something in a nice burgundy or gold may be more befitting of him here but beggars can’t be choosers - and at the moment he is, most certainly, a beggar. 

He tries once again to change the color of the silk fabric with a wave of his hand, but to no avail. Every minute which passes without his magic leaves him more on edge. He pulls his long hair back with a piece of fabric and checks his reflection in the mirror. 

Not terrible for someone whose entire life was recently upended, he thinks. 

Debating whether or not he should risk venturing out on his own with whichever guard is waiting for him outside, he’s brought out of his thoughts by a knock on the door. 

“May I come in?” Comes the now-recognizable voice of Prince Underhill.

Lorenzo allows himself a small, private smile before calling back, “You may!” and watching as the door slowly swings open.

The Prince is already speaking as he steps inside. “If you’re ready, my meeting just finished and I--” but his words stop short, eyes widening and mouth falling open ever so slightly at the sight of Lorenzo freshened up. Prince Underhill catches himself staring and does his best to recover. “I, uh, I’m free for lunch if you still wish to join me.” 

“It’d be an honor,” Lorenzo agrees, pretending not to notice the reaction he got a moment before. Grabbing his bag and sliding it over his shoulder he turns towards the door, waiting expectantly when he finds the Prince watching him but not moving to leave. 

It’s only after they both stand there in silence for a few seconds longer that Prince Underhill realizes that Lorenzo is waiting for  _ him _ , and starts quickly towards the door. 

Adorable. 

The dining hall isn’t that far away, and though there’s a long table clearly meant for large parties or formal gatherings set up there, the two of them take either seat at one of the corners. Food is brought to them and it’s only then that Lorenzo realizes how hungry he is. 

“How long has it been since you’ve eaten?” Prince Underhill asks, and Lorenzo tries to think back to the last thing he ate of his rations. 

“I honestly can’t say,” Lorenzo admits. “But whenever it was, it was far too long ago.” And that much is true. He practically inhales the soup and bread sat before him before slowing himself and looking up apologetically. “Forgive my manners, Your Highness. It seems my hunger overrode my sense of decency for a moment.” 

“Please,” Prince Underhill begins. “Call me Andrew. And there’s no need to apologize. If anything, I should be the one apologizing. I should’ve had food brought to you sooner.” 

They continue to talk throughout the meal, with Lorenzo learning more about Andrew’s family history and the Kingdom of Idris. It’s mostly surface information, things that Lorenzo is certain he can get out of any book of historical record, but he allows Andrew to continue to fill him in and stops to ask a question now and again, keeping the casual conversation going throughout the meal. 

It turns out that Andrew can be quite charming when he wants to be. More than once he cracks a joke and each one has Lorenzo giving genuine barks of laughter that catch him off-guard. Judging from the way Andrew absorbs every positive reaction Lorenzo gives him, Lorenzo has to wonder how lonely Andrew is in this castle. 

It’s only after lunch when Andrew takes him out onto the grounds to show him around a bit more that the conversation turns more personal, allowing Lorenzo to attempt to find out more details about the people here - and about the royal family specifically. 

“So, you mentioned the King and Queen, who I’m assuming are your parents?” Lorenzo leads the conversation. 

“Yes,” Andrew confirms. “They’re away on business right now, trying to secure an alliance with the Kingdom of Seelie... though they’ve been unsuccessful so far. The Seelie people’s ability to grow and harvest crops and plant life is unmatched, however, and the ability to trade with them would be a great victory for our Kingdom.” 

Lorenzo hears the words come out of Andrew’s mouth like a speech, lines he has no doubt repeated numerous times before, perhaps even memorized word for word. Andrew also, very clearly, does not believe a single one of them, and Lorenzo can see right through the tight smile he gives upon finishing. 

“I see,” is all Lorenzo says, not prying just yet. He’s lucky to still be on the property and in the Prince’s good graces and knows better than to delve into personal matters too quickly. “And have you been left alone here in their absence, or do you have siblings to help?” 

Lorenzo isn’t sure if he’s hoping there are other Princes or Princesses he could potentially warm himself up to - more options are always better, after all - but he’s relieved to hear that Andrew is an only child. At least he knows where to focus his efforts, then. 

“My uncle stepped in until their return, but he’s left the majority of the work to me. He only chimes in when it’s convenient, or if he doesn’t agree with me, just to get his way and slink back off to his women and his wine.” Once the words start they tumble out, one after another, in a way that Lorenzo isn’t positive the Prince is fully aware of at first. “And honestly it’s been a lot to take on since they left. The subjects here are--” Andrew starts, but stops himself short. 

“What is it?” Lorenzo presses. 

“It’s nothing. You’re a guest, you aren’t here to listen to me lament about the pitfalls of being born into a privileged life. Ignore me,” Andrew insists. 

“If you insist,” Lorenzo agrees. “But I truly don’t mind. I should probably be aware of the sort of people here if I’m likely to find myself among them after today, after all.” 

Andrew already looked as if something was on his mind, but this statement causes his expression to drop even further. 

“Oh… yes. I suppose you will. Of course.” Andrew quickly turns and starts to walk again, careful to look anywhere but at Lorenzo. 

“Unless you had another idea?” Lorenzo asks, refusing to admit to himself that the tone of hope in his voice is a genuine one and not just for show. “You said it yourself, the King and Queen would not agree to my presence here. I hardly wish to get you into any trouble with your parents over me.” 

“They aren’t due back for another month,” Andrew points out. “You could stay a little while longer if you’d like. At least a few more days to get back on your feet properly.” 

There’s no telling whether this is a suddenly genuine offer or simply Andrew trying to follow the advice of the mystery advisor from the hallway earlier. Being careful to keep his guard up, Lorenzo knows that he can’t afford to wait and feel things out for very long. If he says no now he can’t imagine this is an opportunity he’ll receive again. 

Lorenzo remains silent at the offer at first, not wanting to appear too eager before speaking. “Are you certain I won’t be an imposition? I’m afraid I don’t have much to offer…” He must do a good job of looking uncertain because Andrew continues on quickly as if afraid too much silence might chase Lorenzo away on its own.

“I’d like you to stay,” Andrew admits. “I can’t say I have visitors to the castle often, not that you  _ intentionally _ visited. But I’m enjoying your company.” 

Lorenzo brightens considerably. “It isn’t as if I have anywhere else to be,” he admits. “I don’t think a few more days would do any harm, so long as you promise to tell me if I overstay my welcome.”

Andrew laughs. “I think I can agree to those terms.” 

They continue their walk through the grounds, and Lorenzo eases up a bit on the immediate interrogation. He has a month now, after all. Not an infinite amount of time but enough that he doesn’t need to rush things and risk prying too much too quickly. 

When he gets back to the guest room, which is to be his room for the remainder of his month at the castle, he finds the wardrobe now contains several outfits which are just a bit too large for him but look as if they’ll fit well enough. He wishes he could use his magic to fix the sleeve lengths and take in some of the areas around the stomach, but another attempt only leaves him disappointed again. 

More difficult than any other part of this assignment is going to be adjusting to life without it. Even life in Edom would’ve been infinitely more difficult without his powers, but here, so far removed from everything familiar? 

He tries not to dwell on those thoughts, instead finding his personal guard outside and requesting to be taken to the library. 

With his only acquaintance in and out of meetings and conducting official Royal business, Lorenzo needs to pass the time somehow, and what better way than familiarizing himself with the Kingdom that’s soon to be his.


	3. Part 3 - Building Foundations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Magnus goes above and beyond to secure his place in Alexander's favor, but how much of it is for the mission and how much of it is for himself? Meanwhile, Lorenzo takes a hit to his pride while making a compromise that keeps him on track and avoids any further setbacks to his plan.

Magnus arrives back at the inn on one of Alexander’s spare horses, which he takes great joy in instructing one of the workers at the Inn to take back to the stables before walking in with Simon to arrange for his room. He wears an extremely smug grin on his face the entire time, and takes even further satisfaction in hearing the woman refer to him as ‘Your Highness’ after the way she treated him the night before. Not that he didn’t partially deserve it, but that doesn’t mean he can’t enjoy this moment of vindication a little more than he should.

He gets a decent night’s rest in his room - the bed isn’t half as comfortable as the one he’s used to sleeping in but it’s better than no bed at all. His magic still hasn’t returned to him when he attempts to use it in the morning to freshen up, and instead begins the painstaking process of readying himself without it.

He does all of this before the sun rises, remembering Alexander’s words the day before that he should ‘be ready early’. How early, Magnus isn’t certain, but he would rather be ready too early than run late should the Prince hold true in his end of their agreement.

Which he does. There’s a knock on his door just as the first rays of sun begin to peek over the horizon. When Magnus opens it he isn’t surprised to find Simon standing there, wondering how early the poor boy must’ve woken up to arrive to collect him promptly at sunrise.

“Prince Alexander would like you to come with me back to the castle. Are you ready?” Simon asks, looking surprised to see that the answer is yes. Magnus just finished doing the best he could to give his hair a little life without any magic to enforce its normal shape, and his bag is significantly more empty today considering the fact that most of it was clothing which is now neatly folded in and stored away in drawers.

Magnus, for everything he neglected to pack, did bring with him outfits in a theme of rich purple and maroon shades and is wearing one of his most elaborate today for the sake of making an impression. And, a little bit, to bring some color into that poor prince’s life.

“I’m always ready, my dear boy,” Magnus says, slinging his bag over his shoulder and leading the way down the hall. He sees that the horse he’s borrowing has already been brought around to the front and nods his thanks to the stable hand before following Simon up the path to the castle.

Magnus makes mental notes of a few landmarks - areas away from the town where the trail dips down or veers right - in the hopes that if this is a path he takes often enough he should be able to make it on his own in no time, to come and go as he pleases without a guide.

“You must’ve really impressed the Prince yesterday,” Simon chatters away casually. “I haven’t seen him this excited in weeks. He spent the rest of the night pulling books from the library and drawing up charts. He’s even bringing his sister along to today’s meeting.”

“Is he? And what did you say her name was again?” Magnus asks, trying to get as ahead of things as possible.

“Isabelle,” Simon provides, followed by a soft smile and a look that tells Magnus that, for a moment or two at least, Simon’s mind has drifted off to something other than their conversation. If Magnus has to hazard a guess his money (or lack thereof, at the moment) would be that the suddenly dopey look on Simon’s face is over said sister, and Magnus fixes him with a knowing grin when Simon realizes he’s drifting and pulls his focus back.

Walking into a room with a long desk and several cushioned chairs set around it, Magnus immediately knows _why_ Simon’s thoughts wandered earlier. If the woman standing beside Alexander is Isabelle (and the striking familial resemblance points to yes) then she’s the sort to linger on anyone’s thoughts long after they’ve left her company. He can also tell at a glance that she is a take-no-prisoners type, already turning to fix him with an appraising and entirely judging look as he approaches, eyes sharp and features narrowed.

“Do you really think inviting him in is a good idea?” Isabelle asks Alexander, not bothering to whisper. She has a hand on her hip and, Magnus notes with concern, is shaking her head. “I don’t like it.”

“You don’t have to. You weren’t the one left in charge,” Alexander snaps back, and Isabelle takes a step away as if he physically attacked her.

“You _know_ that isn’t my fault. I’d take the crown in a heartbeat if they’d let me. Unfortunately, that burden falls to you… though I could get you removed for temporary insanity,” she muses, turning her gaze back to Magnus as he approaches.

“I can hear you, you know,” Magnus points out.

“I know,” Isabelle says without a single care. “I’m Isabelle, by the way.”

“Magnus-” Magnus starts, but Isabelle cuts him off.

“Bane,” she finishes for him. “Prince of… Edom, was it?”

“It was indeed,” Magnus confirms. “If you don’t want me here, I can always leave…” he points out.

“You’re staying,” Alexander says firmly to Magnus before turning to face his sister. “He’s staying.” There’s no room for arguments in the tone of his voice, and though Isabelle looks like she might try anyway she ultimately decides against it.

“Looks like I’m staying, then,” Magnus confirms, taking his bag off of his shoulder and hanging it over the nearest empty chair. “How may I be of assistance?”

This question earns Alexander another stern, questioning look from Isabelle, who keeps her mouth resolutely shut. Magnus gets the distinct feeling that if it were up to her he wouldn’t get an answer to that question.

“We need alliances,” Alec admits. “More specifically, we need loans. I’m not going into any details, but you claim to be a prince, and a prince from a kingdom no one here is familiar with, so if you have any contacts or favors to call in… even just to vouch on our behalf while we meet with neighboring Kingdoms…”

“You need to fix a broken reputation,” Magnus clarifies.

“Yes,” Alexander breathes. “I’ve never been the best at that sort of thing.”

“Alec gets defensive at the drop of a hat,” Isabelle teases gently. “Sweet talking, or begging, or doing anything short of standing defiant in the face of sure destruction really isn’t his thing. That’s where _I_ come in. But unfortunately, there’s only so much batting my eyelashes can do after the damage my father’s done.”

Magnus frowns. They want him to use his status as a Prince, which is not a lie and actually entirely legitimate… however he wouldn’t be able to point out Edom on a map, and no one will have heard of him here for it to hold any of the sway the Lightwoods want it to.

“I’ll do what I can,” Magnus promises, which, again, covers himself and is technically the truth. “I also happen to be a master strategist, which I think can help when it comes to your current hardships.”

“We aren’t at war,” Alexander points out. “And I don’t need any help with strategy.”

“AH, but there’s where you’re mistaken, _Your Highness_ ,” Magnus says, putting emphasis on the title seeing as Alexander expressly forbade him from using any less formal terms of address the day before. “ _Everything_ has a strategy behind it, from the order in which you get ready in the morning to when you time your meals, to how to shift funds and energy from one area to another to cover, say, a sudden unexpected gap. And finding ways to hide said gaps. Everything is planned to maximize efficiency and convenience, whether you realize it or not. And I happen to be an expert at everyday strategizing.”

“Are you suggesting we lie to cover up my Father’s cover-ups?” Isabelle questions, reading between the lines of what Magnus is saying.

“No. But there are creative ways to cover the _problem_ he created, while you’re in the process of trying to make it better,” Magnus clarifies.

Both of the Lightwoods eye him skeptically and he doesn’t blame them. He arrived yesterday, throwing around unverifiable claims of royalty, and today is trying to give advice that could make or break an entire kingdom. But perhaps it was fate that put him in their path - a fate that could work for both of them. After all, he needed to take over a Kingdom, and this Kingdom could apparently use a little help regardless.

It’s a good thing for every party involved, isn’t it?

...at least until Asmodeus gets his hands on it in the aftermath. But Magnus wagers he has a good amount of time before anyone comes to check on him, friend or foe or family, so that’s a problem for another time.

“Look at it this way - it isn’t as if I hold any power here. You have, quite literally, nothing to lose from hearing my ideas out as they present themselves. The worst you do is say no and send me on my way. The best you do is pick your Kingdom up out of the hole it’s been dug into.”

Perhaps insulting their home and family isn’t the best way to start off this potential partnership, but so far brutal honesty seems to be Alexander’s thing, and so Magnus mirrors that in an attempt to win the man over.

He isn’t sure it’s working but he hasn’t been sent away yet, so it isn’t totally failing, either.

“We’ll take that into consideration,” Alexander states, remaining so infuriatingly neutral that Magnus would almost rather he start screaming instead. At least then he’d have a better idea of where he stands. “My sister and I need to discuss some personal matters. You may take your leave for the day and come back tomorrow,” Alexander adds abruptly.

“But I just got here,” Magnus protests.

“And now you’re just leaving,” Alec points out, reminding him that it isn’t a request.

Magnus’ instinct is to argue - to remind Alexander that he’s a Prince and cannot be spoken to like this, to remind him that _he_ was the one who needed _Magnus_ here, even if that isn’t strictly true (not that Alexander had to know that). Magnus has always been good at reading people, both what they say and what their body language says, and from the little experience he’s had with Prince Lightwood he’s struck with the sudden gut instinct that this is a test of sorts.

Alec wants him to raise his voice. He wants him to be upset, to make a scene and give them any reason to doubt him and throw him out.

“As you wish, _Your Highness_ ,” Magnus agrees through slightly gritted teeth and turns to leave without another word with Simon already waiting for him on the other side of the door.

“I think he’s starting to like you,” Simon says cheerfully.

“I don’t think he likes anyone,” Magnus casually observes. “But I love a challenge.”

* * *

The first few days that Lorenzo is staying at the castle with Andrew are unexpectedly nice.

Despite Andrew’s skepticism of him the prince continues to spend his free time showing Lorenzo around or sharing meals. That free time may be few and far between obligations, but that makes it that much more meaningful when it is shared, even if it’s for the most trivial of moments. Lorenzo takes a strange pride in the fact that Andrew keeps coming back, almost as if he’s drawn to Lorenzo’s company, but has to remind himself not to be too bold too quickly and scare Andrew off. Every day he returns back to the guest room to spend another night is a victory, and as one day turns into two, then four, then eight, it’s obvious that the two of them have taken well enough to one another that Lorenzo’s invitation to stay is extended. He doesn’t ask to remain longer, and Andrew never explicitly offers, but it’s an unspoken awareness between them.

On more than one occasion Lorenzo reminds himself that he has a mission here after finding himself getting too caught up in the casual pleasure of his current life as Andrew’s guest in the castle. Complacency is the sort of thing that will give Magnus the upper hand, wherever he may be, and Lorenzo refuses to lose this challenge between them. He refocuses his efforts to spend as much time with Andrew as possible, getting to know him and his interests and hobbies as much as Andrew will allow him.

Even just the surface details are enough to grab Lorenzo’s curiosity. He finds small, ornamental white circles of lace under most table displays and discovers that Andrew has a strange fondness for what he calls a ‘doily’. Even the accents on Andrew’s clothing closely resemble them at times as do the intricately designed napkins at the dining tables. It’s such a small detail to notice but when Andrew seem hesitant to admit how much he personally enjoys them, rather than pretending it was a design choice put there by someone else, Lorenzo knows this is a personal detail he’s only getting because he’s starting to earn the prince’s favor. There are other moments of this as well - meals of foods Lorenzo only off-handedly mention are suddenly prepared the next day, things of that nature. Things which do not go unnoticed.

Unfortunately, Andrew is often otherwise occupied with work in the absence of the King and Queen, forcing Lorenzo to sometimes take his meals alone. Lorenzo starts to make acquaintances around the castle, some of the servants and guards and other staff taking pity on the fact that he knows no one and mostly humoring his questions and conversation starters. There is a lot more to learn from people than there is from reading texts, and it’s only once people begin opening up to him that he starts to learn the most important details of this kingdom and the royal family.

For example, one of the guards admits that their experience within these walls is hardly transferable to life as a whole in the kingdom. The working class are often pushed to exhaustion just to make ends meet with the unrealistic output expectations of the trade agreements the King and Queen have in place. Their quality of life suffers greatly and the conditions they live in on the outskirts of town, closest to any fields or quarries they work in, are declining at rapid speeds.

Once it’s brought to Lorenzo’s attention it’s all he’s aware of. He can see the wariness and fatigue on the faces of every peasant who comes by the castle to deliver goods, though most of them take one look at his expensive clothing, peg him for Royalty, and keep their distance. The few he does manage to speak with are very tight-lipped.

Whenever Lorenzo tries to suggest he take a trip to the village for a day it’s quickly shot down and replaced with some other schedule of events by Andrew, which all but confirms his suspicions that what he’s hearing is true. For now, he doesn’t argue the point, only stores that information away.

By the end of his month there, however, he begins to grow increasingly anxious over what this means for his future here. It’s only been a few weeks but he’s grown rather fond of Andrew over that time, not to mention the lifestyle of existing in the Royal Castle where nearly unlimited resources are at his disposal. He doesn’t want to think about life outside these castle walls, struggling to make ends meet without his magic.

Andrew, for his part, seems content to exist in a bubble where the inevitable end of their time alone in the castle without the King and Queen isn’t a matter of days away. Every time Lorenzo tries to bring it up Andrew changes the subject, or suddenly has some sort of business to attend to.

It’s only the night before the King and Queen are due to arrive back in which he finally forces Andrew to discuss the situation.

“You’ve been avoiding me all day,” Lorenzo points out over dinner. He notes that this dinner in particular is even more decadent than usual, and can’t shake the feeling that it might be meant as a final supper, a sendoff before he’s kicked out for good, and he refuses to lose the progress he’s made this past month. He’s so close to his goal he can taste it.

“I haven’t,” Andrew insists. “I’ve simply been busy. There are certain arrangements that must be attended to, to prepare for the King and Queen’s arrival, as well as...” Andrew hesitates.

“Yes?” Lorenzo prompts.

“If you were to leave tomorrow,” Andrew starts slowly. “You would have nowhere to go, would you?”

Lorenzo shrugs. “I’d figure something out,” he says, but there’s an edge of anxiousness in his tone over the idea because truthfully, the answer is no. It would set back his entire plan, everything he’d been working towards, to a possibly crippling degree.

“What if I worked out a way for you to stay here, in the castle?” There’s something in the way the prince continues to hesitate, to draw out whatever it is he’s trying to offer, that somehow makes Lorenzo more anxious than the idea of being kicked out.

“And what way might that be? You were quite certain before that this arrangement was to end with the return of the King and Queen.” Lorenzo knows he shouldn’t get his hopes up but he can’t help it.

“You can stay here… to work.”

“You want me to be a _servant_?” Lorenzo balks. He knows he should be grateful for the offer, for the fact that Andrew even considered ways to keep him around, but _this?_ He’s a Prince of Edom, a son of Lilith, and he will not be reduced to scrubbing floors and washing dishes. And even without knowing that about him - Andrew must’ve anticipated this reaction after living here as a guest for weeks, to know that going from having someone serve him food to being the one serving it would be quite the downgrade.

“No, of course I don’t. But-- well, it’s the best I could manage, and I thought it might be better than nothing. I know it isn’t ideal, but I’ve always turned down having a personal servant - you would work directly for me, and I wouldn’t ask much of you. There are appearances to keep, but I’ll hardly have you shining my shoes or anything demeaning. It’s mostly for show. Of course, I completely understand if you’d rather not.”

Lorenzo, despite his immediate rejection of the idea, actually stops to consider Andrew’s current proposal. Being _anyone’s_ servant is a ridiculous concept - if he had his magic he could level this entire castle without breaking a sweat… except he doesn’t have his magic. He doesn’t have anything, and everything he needs is within these walls. Walls he now has an opportunity to stay in, rather than work is way back to, if he can take the hit to his pride and accept Andrew’s offer.

"And I would be _your_ servant specifically?" Lorenzo questions.

Andrew grimaces. "I despise that word," he sighs. "But for lack of a better one - and for all intents and purposes - yes." Andrew is uncomfortable with his status and the burdens - and even the privileges - of it. And Lorenzo believes him, for whatever that's worth.

If Magnus could see him now…

“What if I say yes now and absolutely despise it?” There’s something humiliating about the mere idea of servitude, and the fact that he’s even considering it (and seriously enough to ask questions about it) is a point at which he never imagined finding himself. Yet here he is, frowning, and debating actually serving another person - a _mundane,_ a _human_ \- to remain in the castle and work through his assignment.

The disgust must be clear on Lorenzo’s face, an emotion so strong he can’t even hide it for the sake of appearances because Andrew lifts a hand that looks as if he’s instinctively reaching for Lorenzo’s shoulder before he thinks twice about the action and drops it to his side instead.

“You may leave at any time. You have my word. I said it the first day you arrived and it remains true - you’re not a prisoner here,” Andrew promises.

 _Just no longer a ‘guest’_ , Lorenzo considers ruefully. A step down, but down is not out, and he knows in his heart he’d be foolish to walk away now. He’d been worried that once the Uncle who invited him in was gone, he’d be gone along with it. At least now he gets the opportunity to stay.

“Alright then,” Lorenzo agrees. “Tell me what I need to do.”

* * *

Magnus doesn’t trust the mundanes. He never has, and he knows that this is a direct product of his upbringing and yet despite how little he values his father’s opinion it’s one thing he allowed to be ingrained in him for centuries: the mundanes are the reason his kind stay in Edom, the reason they’re locked away. Centuries ago, when they tried to coexist, they were feared and hunted or kidnapped as prizes, bound by ancient rituals from those trained by their ancestors and rumored to be descended from pure angelic bloodlines. It’s a practice that, so far as Magnus can tell, has faded with the decades, possibly centuries, ever since his kind decided to keep to Edom out of both self-preservation and simplicity.

He doesn’t care about the problems of the humans around him, honestly, especially not knowing that the moment he wins this bet for his father most of their concerns are going to be wiped away entirely... One way or another. This is one of the things that makes his current situation so infuriating.

The irony of him being the one who doesn’t trust the Lightwoods isn’t lost on him - after all, he’s the one who showed up under false pretenses and continues to work his way closer and closer to being exactly where he needs to be with the royal family. His eyes are set on Alexander from the moment they meet but it becomes obvious that Isabelle may be the one to warm up to him first, and maybe he could shift his efforts to the sister and find his in that way. She doesn’t _seem_ interested in him that way (in fact, she seems to heavily return Simon’s flirting whenever he’s around) but it wouldn’t be the first time he used his charm to sway a little romantic persuasion.

But Alexander’s softening. Magnus can tell in the way he laughs a little more often, not always standing at perfect attention, not always crossing his arms in front of him to speak to distance himself. So maybe not all hope is lost.

It’s been a month now, however, and Prince Alexander seems to be playing games with him even still. The Inn is so far away from the castle that the daily trip is wearing on Magnus more than anything else. It’s adding hours to his day - and the people there dislike him more with each passing night for reasons he isn’t entirely sure of. He knows he got off on the wrong foot with them but it's a grudge they haven’t dropped since.

But the most infuriating is Alexander himself, who seems determined not to fully let him in. Magnus repeats day after day that he can’t help if he doesn’t know the full story, and by the end of the month it’s in equal parts frustration over the hold-up in advancing his status in this kingdom and partly because he finds the more he learns about Alexander and Isabelle and this kingdom, the more he actually wants _to help_ a little bit _._ Not to help himself, but simply to _help_.

Except he can’t, not with what little he has access to.

So when he arrives one morning after about a month only to have Alexander, standing at the table with his back to Magnus, say “Go home, we aren’t doing this today”, he decides enough is enough.

“Your Highness, with all due respect, I think it’s time you-”

 _“I said leave.”_ There’s a waver of emotion to Alexander’s voice that Magnus has never heard before, and when he turns to face him Magnus can see the tell-tale signs that the prince has been wiping tears from his eyes. It’s only then that Magnus notes Isabelle’s absence as well.

“What’s wrong?” Magnus asks, voice softer now.

“None of your concern. Sorry for making you come all the way up here, but today isn’t - I can’t do this today. I’m sorry.” Alexander says, sounding defeated, which is how Magnus knows something is _seriously_ wrong.

Magnus knows he should leave. He shouldn’t get himself involved in things that aren’t his business, things that won’t benefit him to get wrapped up in or that he has no place involving himself, but he can’t leave Alexander looking so broken and alone, not without at least trying.

After all, he tells himself, it’s part of his assignment to earn Alexander’s full trust in order to take control of the Kingdom - and if he convinces himself it’s a job and nothing more, he can overlook the way Alexander’s sadness tugs at his heartstrings and pretend that isn’t a factor at all.

He should turn and walk away. He should listen to Alexander and keep his nose clean for once, but…

“Let me help,” Magnus insists.

“You can’t,” Alexander sighs. “No one can at this point. It’s too late.”

“Then talk to me. It won’t do to dwell alone here all day. And don’t say you won’t, because I might’ve only been here for a few weeks but we both know that would be a lie.” Magnus fixes Alexander with a pointed stare, daring him to argue.

“It’s my Mother,” Alexander admits slowly. “They’ve decided to prosecute her for both her and my father’s crimes. She wasn’t even _aware_ of half of what Robert did, the bastard, and now-” Alexander’s voice raises more with every word until he cuts himself off and takes a deep breath to steady himself. “Isabelle insisted on staying with her and now there’s talk of dragging her down with them because she was compliant in some of his deals as well. Not that she knew any better, she was just following orders…”

It’s at that moment that Magnus realizes that somewhere, over the course of the last month, he may not care much more for the problems of humans in general but he’s grown invested in the person in front of him.

Magnus is _upset_ to hear about Alexander’s mother and see the pain it’s causing him. He’s angry in the face of the unjust charges against her, at least partially undeserved as Alexander explained them.

He realizes with no small amount of concern that he _cares_ about Alexander, and Isabelle, and this little world around them, at least on some level; which is much more than the level of ‘not at all’ he should be at.

“What do we do now?” Magnus asks, and the question has Alexander’s head snapping up to stare at him with wide eyes.

“What do you mean?”

“What’s the next course of action? How do we fight the charges against the Queen?” Magnus repeats.

“The trial is private and more of a formality anyway. The Councils’ minds are already made up.”

“So we unmake them. Get me an audience with them, and have a little faith.” Magnus sounds so certain, so determined, that Alexander - for once - doesn’t argue.

“Okay,” Alexander agrees. And then, as if spurred on by this sudden change of tone, looks at the papers on the table and then back up to Magnus. “...so picking up where we left off yesterday…”

Magnus places himself next to Alexander, taking Isabelle’s usual spot without a word of protest, and gets to work.

\---

The meeting with the council is… something. Even with the Prince himself setting it up it takes two weeks for Magnus to be granted an audience, one which Alexander insists on being present for even if he only remains in the back of the room and isn’t allowed to participate. Alexander actually has to argue for his right to stay, with few present not believing he’ll be able to remain silent and unobtrusive during the proceedings. It’s a fair concern - this is the last day of deliberations before a final decision is made on Queen Maryse Lightwood’s fate.

Alexander was very clear beforehand on what Magnus is and isn’t allowed to say, briefed intensely on what might help and what would only hurt further. For his part, Magnus simply wants to provide an outsider’s point of view. Someone without a stake in all of this, with nothing to gain and nothing to lose, trying to show them how unreasonable they’re being in their treatment of the Queen who stayed behind to try and claim accountability rather than run, which she easily could’ve done to avoid all of this.

Magnus speaks for the better part of an hour, dressed to perfection and using every ‘Sir’ and ‘M’lady’ where appropriate, even biting his tongue when their harsh criticisms fell on him and his ‘kingdom that isn’t even worth being aware of’, as no one here heard of Edom, either, which is to be expected.

Magnus takes it all in stride, never flinching or stepping back, holding his ground as steadily as he holds his reverence for Maryse’s actions in the face of all the challenges her husband created. He emphasizes how important it is to have a leader willing to accept responsibility, how her continued presence would be a bold face for their kingdom and send the sort of message that would be respected across the land.

Magnus does his best, he tries his absolute damnedest, but in the end, it isn’t enough.

The verdict is given before they even leave the hall, a sure sign that this decision was made before he arrived and nothing he said ever could’ve stopped it, and Maryse Lightwood is sentenced to exile. Isabelle falls into hysterics at the back of the room as her mother is led away, and Alexander holds her tight, standing tall and defiant as ever.

Magnus knows what this means for the prince. Without either parent as a figurehead now that weight falls entirely on him. Even in ignoring his pleas, and in defying every case Alexander made for his mother, the Council put the very man whose entire family they just ruined as the official figurehead of their entire kingdom.

Maryse stands tall, walking herself out with her head held high rather than kicking and screaming in protest, the picture of class. Magnus laments not getting to know her better during his short time here. The door behind Maryse is barely closed before all eyes turn towards Alexander where he stands in the back of the room, the head of the council shouting a clear, “All Hail King Alexander!” before being joined in a chorus of the phrase echoing back at him.

Alexander’s lips are pressed tight together, careful not to frown, careful not to cry. He just watched his mother walk away from him for what may be the last time in his entire life, yet he refuses to show a shred of emotion - not sadness, not outrage - as he takes Isabelle by the shoulders and leads her out of the room.

Heavy is the head that wears the crown.

\---

Magnus waits for a long while in that room after everyone else leaves. He wonders if Alexander will even want to see him again after today ( _after he wasn’t enough, after he failed him_ ). He doesn’t know why he does it - he should go back to the Inn, or perhaps back to the strategy room, anywhere but where his feet lead him - but instead he feels compelled to check in on the prince--

 _No,_ he corrects himself. _The King._ To check in on the _king_ first. At least, Alexander will be king soon enough - there are some formalities to take care of, and a ceremony, but it’s only a matter of days now until it’s official.

Alexander comes to the door and looks genuinely surprised as if he expects to see anyone standing there other than Mangus.

“I’m sorry,” Magnus says before Alexander can so much as open his mouth in greeting.

“Don’t be,” Alexander says. “You did everything you could. Hell, you did more than anyone else in our family or any of the people we considered friends for _decades_. I really appreciate it. Truly, Magnus.”

There are fresh wet streaks on Alexander’s face, Magnus notes upon closer inspection, and he has to restrain himself from reaching out to brush them away... especially after the casual usage of his first name. Once or twice Alexander’s slipped up in the past when it came to consistently referring to him as Sir Bane, or just Bane, but it never held the meaning it did this time.

Or maybe Magnus is just reading too much into what he _wants_ to hear because he has to admit the idea of there being a new sense of familiarity between them after all of this sends a bit of a thrill through him.

“It was no problem at all, Your Highness.” Magnus has to remember himself, after all, he’s in the presence of the king now.

Alone, after inviting himself over, in the personal chambers of the king.

This should be a realization that brings him to his senses enough to excuse himself and go back to the Inn for the night, but instead, he does the opposite.

“Would you like some company? I could stay for a while… bring up some dinner from the kitchen, or work on some speeches for you to give tomorrow?” Magnus doesn’t like the idea of leaving the King alone in his grief.

“No,” Alexander insists. “I’m fine. I should go visit Isabelle anyway… and I’ll have tomorrow covered as well. You’ve done more than enough, take the day for yourself.”

Magnus visibly deflates over his offer being turned down without so much as a moment of consideration, even just to humor him. “I see. As you wish, Your Highness.” Magnus gives a short bow before taking his leave.

“He kicked you out, didn’t he?” Simon asks when Magnus comes across him outside the room.

“I don’t blame him. He’ll be busy with Isabelle, and I’m sure he’ll have plenty of meetings to attend tomorrow,” Magnus says, echoing Alexander’s reasons.

Simon shakes his head. “No… when something like this happens he just completely withdraws, usually for days. I already cleared his schedule for tomorrow. He won’t talk to anyone, not even Isabelle, and I’m sure he’ll just spend the day training or down at the archery range until he’s too exhausted to stand.”

Magnus stops walking, wondering if it’s too late to turn back and be more insistent about staying now. Simon seems to read his mind because he stops walking, too, and turns back to face Magnus with wide eyes.

“You _can’t_ let him know I told you all that. He’ll kill me. I’m too young to die,” Simon practically begs.

“Okay. I won’t go back now… but I’ll be back tomorrow morning. Make sure someone’s there to let me in the servant entrance,” Magnus instructs Simon.

“What are you going to do?” Simon asks, justifiably wary, but Magnus only smiles.

“Just a little something to make sure your new King doesn’t self-destruct on his first day,” Magnus replies cryptically, and much to Simon’s frustration (and slight terror) doesn’t elaborate on before taking his leave.

\---

That something, Magnus demonstrates the next day, is breakfast. It’s nothing fancy, a rather basic eggs, bread, cheese, and bacon plate, but from what Simon told him that would be more than Alexander would’ve eaten on his own otherwise. So Magnus cooks the food and takes it to the King’s room with a knock.

“Come back later,” comes the reply from inside.

“And let the bacon get cold?” Magnus calls back through the door. He waits expectantly, hearing the rustling inside followed by footsteps and finally the click of the lock turning in the door.

Alexander looks as if he’s seen better days. The robe he wears is pulled shut over wrinkled bedclothes, his hair going in a million different directions, and his eyes red. “What are you doing here? I told you to take the day.”

“You did,” Magnus agrees. “And I decided to take it and make us both some breakfast.”

“You shouldn’t have,” Alexander says, eyeing the covered tray in Magnus’ hands warily. “I’m not hungry. Take it to Isabelle.”

“She has her own food because unlike you she didn’t turn her entire waitstaff away for the day,” Magnus says, and though his tone is casual there’s a pointed implication behind his words. “You can’t punish yourself for what happened to the Queen.”

“I’m not,” Alexander insists stubbornly.

“Then eat,” Magnus counters, just as stubborn. “Because I’ve heard your stomach rumble twice since you opened this door.” It’s nearly midmorning, much later than anyone should be eating for the first time that day, and it’s clear that Alexander’s body is used to eating earlier by the way it’s reacting to the smell of food.

Alexander doesn’t say another word, but takes the tray out of Magnus’ hands and turns away with it. Magnus does his best not to allow his smile to turn too self-satisfied in response.

They sit in surprisingly comfortable silence while Alexander eats as if somehow knowing Magnus wouldn’t leave until he does.

“I’d like to stay, if that’s alright with you,” Magnus offers when the food is done and it’s clear that, if his only goal here was to provide breakfast then it’s time for him to take his leave.

“I’m the King now,” Alexander points out. “I don’t need a babysitter.”

“No, but you do need a friend, Your Highness. I’d like to think I could be that if I’m not already.” It’s a bold move to make, a gamble at this point, but Magnus thinks it’ll pay off. He’s shown his value over the past weeks, been there day and night, and stood by the royal family despite owing them no allegiance. If that wasn’t enough to get him close to Alexander…

“Then I suppose you should drop the ‘Your Highness’,” Alexander concedes with the smallest hint of a smile.

“Consider it done, Alexander.”

“You can call me Alec,” Alexander amends. Magnus hums in consideration.

“I quite like Alexander, if it’s all the same to you.”

Alec considers this. “Okay,” he agrees at length, though Magnus can tell he’s not entirely sold on the idea.

“So, Alexander, what’s on the agenda for today?” Magnus asks, wondering if Alec actually had any plans besides closing himself off in his room the entire day as Simon hinted at the day before.

Suddenly Alec’s entire demeanor changes. There’s new energy behind his actions as he shifts to face Magnus. “How do you feel about archery?”

“Can’t say I’ve done much of it, but I’d love to learn.”

Alec grins, and Magnus gets the feeling that being friends with Alexander is going to be easier than he thought.

\---

Magnus, as it turns out, is terrible at archery. Something that both frustrates him and works to his advantage, because it gives him an excuse to spend more time with Alec. Alec loves the sport more than most other things, he explains, and when he needs to think or let off some steam it’s the perfect outlet. Magnus certainly doesn’t mind Alec’s strong grip on his arms, readjusting his hold and fidgeting with his stance. He pretends not to notice the slight flush in Alec’s cheeks when his gaze or touch lingers longer than strictly necessary.

Magnus isn’t the only one who notices.

“You like him.” Magnus overhears Isabelle saying to Alec on his way back from excusing himself to freshen up after target practice one day later that week. It’s something they kept returning to after that first time, something safe and pleasant for Alec to turn to. Isabelle’s with that day, though she doesn’t partake, only observes.

Perhaps she observes a little too closely.

“Of course I do, we’re friends,” Magnus hears Alec reply pointedly. Magnus slows his own steps, listening to the exchange taking place just around the corner. He knows he shouldn’t eavesdrop but-

“No. You _like_ him. I can tell. And I think it’s wonderful!” Isabelle insists. “I haven’t seen you this happy in ages, even in spite of everything that’s happened, and you deserve that.”

“So do you,” Alec points out.

“Oh no, you don’t. No turning this one around on me! Why don’t you tell him?” Izzy asks. “I think it’s pretty obvious he likes you as well.”

“Because I can’t take that chance. If he doesn’t feel the same way then I don’t just lose my only good friend here; we both lose an advisor we desperately need. I can’t risk it… on either front. No matter how much I want to.”

Magnus has every intention of turning away and pretending he hadn’t heard any of that until he heard the fear and sadness in Alec’s words. Instead, he does something brash and steps out from around the corner.

Alec pales at the sight of him and even Isabelle looks concerned.

“And what if I were to tell you that there’s no risk at all - that the feelings are mutual and you have nothing to lose?” Magnus says, keeping his eyes carefully locked on Alexander’s.

Alec’s mouth opens, then closes again without making a sound. Isabelle heaves out an impatient sigh and nudges her brother forward.

“If you were to tell me that,” Alec starts slowly. “Then perhaps I would ask if it’s alright to kiss you?”

Any tension Magnus held in anticipation of Alexander’s response melts away at those words before nodding in confirmation. “More than alright, Alexander.”

They lean in at the same time, Magnus bringing a hand up to Alexander’s cheek while Alexander wraps his arm around Magnus’ waist to pull him in closer. It’s warm and inviting and _perfect_ , and for a moment Magnus forgets that there’s a mission at all: it’s just him and Alexander and no outside world at all.

Except it isn’t. Their kiss is short-lived, nearly impossible to maintain once they start laughing against each other’s lips at Isabelle’s enthusiastic clapping to the side, and when Alexander pulls away it’s with a fond eye-roll that makes Magnus laugh even harder.

“...perhaps less of an audience next time,” Alec says with a shake of his head, leaving Magnus to eagerly anticipate whenever that next time may be.


	4. Part Four: What Once Was Lost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something they thought lost forever is returned to Magnus and Lorenzo, but as feelings grow stronger between them and their princes will they be able to use the gifts they're given to complete their mission, or will they find themselves serving new motivations?

Life as Andrew’s servant isn’t half as terrible as Lorenzo is expecting but that doesn’t mean he’s particularly enjoying himself. After all, there are appearances to keep and whenever they’re around other people Lorenzo finds himself being put in increasingly demeaning scenarios. He wonders how much longer he can keep up with this before he decides to walk away.

It’s Andrew’s kind words and a comforting smile that bring him back time and time again when others treat him poorly simply because of the job he’s taken on. If they only knew…. If he were able to produce even a fraction of the magic he’s capable of, then perhaps…

Except he can’t. That’s the entire reason he’s in this predicament: forced to _work_ , as a _servant_ no less, simply to get closer to the goal he must obtain.

And it’s starting to pay off. Lorenzo spends as much time as he can by Andrew’s side, which is totally normal because it’s what he’s supposed to do now. But it also gives him a chance to talk to him more, even on the days he has nothing but endless appointments or trips out of the castle. And the more he gets to know about him the more he enjoys the time he spends there, no matter what it is he’s doing.

Lorenzo convinces himself it’s still for the sake of his assignment when he starts to leave lingering touches on Andrew’s arms while helping him get dressed in the morning, or when he stands too close while walking down the stone halls, or when their feet accidentally brush under the table. He convinces himself that the blush that tinges Andrew’s cheeks and the little, secretive smile just for him are signs of victory and that the flutter he feels in his chest is excitement over beating Magnus and Asmodeus and nothing else.

Until the first time he and Andrew kiss.

There’s a meeting that Lorenzo isn’t allowed to accompany Andrew into, and so he waits back in the Prince’s quarters for him to return. Except when Andrew comes back it’s with tears threatening to spill over as he blinks them away and looks surprised to see Lorenzo waiting in front of him.

“Sorry. You can leave, I’m canceling the rest of my appointments today,” Andrew says in a rush, turning away from Lorenzo. But Lorenzo stands and crosses the space between them instead of leaving, reaching out a hand to rest gently on Andrew’s shoulder, turning him around to face him.

“What is it?”

“Nothing. Politics. Family. Don’t worry about it, it’s fine,” Andrew mutters, gaze turned resolutely towards the floor.

“It isn’t fine,” Lorenzo insists. “ _You_ aren’t fine.” And then without thinking, Lorenzo reaches a hand out to rest under Andrew’s chin and lift it gently so that their eyes meet.

That’s when Andrew leans in and kisses him, though once he does Lorenzo moves forward as well so they meet in the middle, lips pressing together with matching desire. Lorenzo brings his arms up to run through those golden curls he loves so much, which is when he sees it -

His magic.

The sparks of golden yellow which leave his fingertips are harmless, but the sight of it after so long startles him and he drops his hands abruptly before taking a step back.

Andrew grimaces. “I’m sorry. That was out of line of me. It’ll never happen again, please forgive-”

“No,” Lorenzo says quickly, hands clasped behind his back until he’s certain the last traces of magic are gone. Even so, he brings them to his side slowly, glancing down to ensure they’re normal again before looking back up at Andrew. “No, it isn’t that,” he insists, and a small smile crosses his lips. “I certainly wouldn’t mind if that happened again.”

Andrew smiles back. “Oh,” he says, relieved. “Good. Because I’ve wanted to do that for quite some time now.”

“Why haven’t you?” Lorenzo questions.

“Politics,” Andrew admits. “Family.”

It isn’t lost on Lorenzo that these are the two things he said were wrong when he first arrived back here.

“You don’t have to be The Prince around me. You don’t have to impress me,” Lorenzo reassures him. He’s surprised to find that he means it, and even more that he _cares_ , not just about how Andrew is feeling but how Andrew feels about him.

“And yet I find there’s no one else I want to impress more,” Andrew counters, and it isn’t long before their lips meet again.

For a much different reason than originally intended Andrew keeps the rest of his appointments for the afternoon cancelled.

\---

Lorenzo’s magic slips up more than once that first day, seeming to come back into existence whenever it wants to, overly eager to be present and put to use again. He refrains, not because he isn’t equally eager to have it back but because it’s temperamental and he can’t have it going awry and giving himself away.

Starting small, Lorenzo changes the color of a shirt he already has in front of him and gets pretty close to the shade he tries for. When he summons a book from the other side of the room to himself, however, it flickers out in the middle of the room and falls to the floor with a heavy thud. Later in the day, he slows a falling plate from a passing servant with his magic and quickly reaches out to grab it with his hands so it looks like he caught it normally. At night he lights the candles in his room with the snap of a finger… and then a second later the flames grow higher and higher until he has to grab a basin of water from the bath to dump on them before he sets the entire castle on fire.

Sometimes nothing happens at all when he tries to test it, and those times are even worse than the ones that go wrong.

It’s better than nothing, he keeps reminding himself, and a sure sign that his magic is going to come back to him: hopefully fully, and hopefully soon. It flares up the most when he’s emotional, so the moments around Andrew become increasingly dangerous the longer he keeps this part of himself a secret. The moments he’s around the King and Queen, for very different reasons, are equally dangerous.

The King and Queen are particularly awful. He avoids them whenever possible, even when Andrew is around because Andrew becomes a completely different person around them when it comes down to duties and responsibilities. Gone is the guy who spent a month laughing in the gardens with him sharing longing glances and, more recently, intimate embraces; around the other nobility Andrew keeps Lorenzo at a distance, his words carefully chosen and wary. In fact, the closer and more intimate he and Andrew become behind locked doors, the more distant Andrew seems to be everywhere else.

It's nearly a week since Lorenzo’s magic started to come back when he has a particularly upsetting encounter wherein the King refers to Lorenzo with some quite demeaning and degrading words. It takes all of Lorenzo’s self-control not to lash out with whatever the prickling magic under his skin is hoping to release, something he’s positive won’t be pretty, and instead turn his gaze towards Andrew for support.

Instead of coming to his defense Andrew simply says, “You’re excused,” to usher Lorenzo out of the room as quickly as possible. Lorenzo turns and stalks out of the room without so much as a backward glance, and is pacing back and forth in his room when Andrew comes to find him an hour later.

“I’m so sorry, Ren. He shouldn’t-” Andrew starts, making his way over to wrap his arms around Lorenzo once the door shuts behind him, but stops cold as Lorenzo tenses and steps away.

“I can’t keep doing this,” Lorenzo says with a heavy sigh. “I can’t have you pretend to care about me and comfort me in secret, and then act as if I’m nothing to you the moment we’re not alone.”

He doesn’t know if it’s the fear of his magic flaring up every time he gets upset, or the fact that it actually hurts at this point to be treated with such indifference by someone he’s starting to care about, or the fact that the longer he remains static in this role as a servant the more he can feel his ultimate goal slip from his grasp. In reality, it’s probably a mixture of all three that finally tip him over the edge after the scene today with King Underhill.

“I’m sorry,” Andrew repeats, this time making no move toward him.

“So am I,” Lorenzo says, moving toward the closet to gather his things into the bag he arrived with before he can doubt his instinctive motivations.

“What are you doing?” Andrew asks. Lorenzo closes his eyes at the tremor he hears there, not wanting to see that wide-eyed look he knows is on Andrew’s face. “You can’t leave.”

“I can’t stay here, not like this.” Even as he shoves his clothing into his bag Lorenzo does so slower than he should, stalling. He doesn’t _want_ to leave, he realizes. Even as he tells himself he can find another Kingdom (he knows of plenty now), another Prince or Princess, one where he can start over with a better plan and _not be someone’s servant_ \--- he wants to stay with Andrew, and while he’s giving Andrew plenty of time to stop him an uncomfortable sinking feeling grows in the pit of Lorenzo’s stomach the longer Andrew remains silent.

“Wait,” Andrew says suddenly, and Lorenzo pauses as a hand grabs his wrist to still him. “You’re right. You deserve so much better than the way I’ve treated you lately.” Andrew hesitates. “Do you remember the day we first kissed? How upset I was?”

Lorenzo nods, not sure what that has to do with anything just then but allowing Andrew the chance to speak.

“My father told me there were rumors of me becoming too familiar with ‘the help’. That we were suspiciously close during his absence and even after his return… he wanted you to leave the castle entirely, but I couldn’t stand the thought, so I swore it was nothing but lies.” Lorenzo knows the implication of that - that Andrew told his father Lorenzo meant nothing to him, which certainly explains his behavior in public lately. “It isn’t even that I care what they think of me - they’re not the best of people and they hardly have any right to judge. I was just being selfish. I could’ve let them send you away and protected you from all of this, but I wanted to keep you here, for me, instead. I should’ve said something to you but… well, I didn’t think you needed me as much as I needed you.” Andrew drops his hand from Lorenzo’s arm, frustrated, and Lorenzo can tell that it’s at himself and not at him.

“I meant to distance myself but when I got back to my room you were there with so much kindness, so much caring and compassion, that I broke my own resolve. I never meant to kiss you. I never meant to bring you close just to shut you out.” Andrew is pacing now, shaking his head, and stops suddenly with a look of defeat clear as day across his face. “I didn’t want to tell you what happened and have you leave, but now you’re doing that anyway.”

“I appreciate you taking me in when you didn’t have to,” Lorenzo says earnestly. “And I enjoyed our time together-”

“No,” Andrew cuts him off. “This isn’t goodbye. I’m going to talk to him. To both of them. I’ll… I’ll figure something out. Just give me some time - a day. If there’s any small part of you that wants to stay with me, give me one day to fix this.”

Lorenzo pauses, pretending to consider the option as if he wasn’t ready to ask to stay from the very start of this conversation.

“Okay,” Lorenzo finally allows.

Andrew smiles and gives him a determined nod, but keeps his space. “Wish me luck.”

“Good luck, Andrew,” Lorenzo says and hopes that Andrew knows how much he means it.

\---

There’s a knock on his door several hours later, and Lorenzo unlocks the door with his magic without leaving his desk. “Come in,” he calls out, expecting it to be Andrew because no one else has ever come to call at his personal quarters other than Andrew before.

“Is that how you address your King?” Comes an unexpected voice from the door. Lorenzo stands so quickly he nearly topples the chair over in his haste.

“Your Highness,” Lorenzo amends. “I wasn’t expecting--”

“No, I imagine you were expecting my son,” King Underhill points out, leaving Lorenzo with a growing sense of dread over what happened to Andrew since the last time he saw him. Surely the King wouldn’t harm his own heir…

“Where is Prince Andrew?” Lorenzo asks, and though his eyes narrow and the words come across as more of a demand than a question he at least has the sense to use proper titles.

The King doesn’t answer his question but poses one of his own instead. “I’m here to make you an offer.” He pulls out a satchel and holds it out in front of him - it’s weighed down by something heavy inside. “This is full of gold. More than enough to get yourself started with a very comfortable life somewhere.”

“You mean somewhere other than here,” Lorenzo fills in the blank.

“Leave now without a single word to my son and it’s yours,” King Underhill confirms.

Lorenzo eyes the bag, then looks back up at the King and shakes his head. “No.”

“What?”

“I said no. If I leave here it’ll be because I’m forced to against my will, or because Andrew asks me to,” Lorenzo clarifies.

With a disgruntled noise, the King slips the satchel back into his pocket. “He said you would say that,” he mutters. “Then you have one other option. It won’t do to have my son seen… _fraternizing_ with the help. You may stay here, not as a servant but as the Prince’s personal guard. It’ll excuse the frankly excessive amount of time the two of you are seen together. And anything more _personal_ is to be kept just that, for both of your sakes. Do I make myself clear?”

Part of Lorenzo can’t believe Andrew actually told his father about their relationship. He wonders if this will be good enough… it’s certainly better than what it was before. And he imagines it’s likely the best Andrew could manage with what he has to work with.

It’ll do, Lorenzo thinks, at least for now.

“Clear as crystal, Your Highness. Thank you.”

The King makes a grunt-like noise in response, clearly not thrilled with the outcome of their encounter, before turning to leave.

Lorenzo realizes this means there’s hope for him here yet.

* * *

Magnus almost misses the moment his magic comes back to him. He’s sitting with Alexander, books open in front of them, trying to find some sort of loophole they can use to allow his mother to stay within the kingdom even if she no longer holds any of her previous status. Alec hasn’t slept in days, though he insists he’s fine. If he really _were_ fine his movements wouldn’t be clumsy enough to knock over a candle on the table. Magnus is too far away to stop it but he reaches a hand out instinctively to use magic that, up until this point, hasn’t reacted to hundreds of similar instinctive reactions.

Until now.

The candle stops before it can hit the paper below, floating into the air before righting itself and landing on the table. Alec’s head whips towards it, suddenly aware of what just happened, eyes squinted in confusion.

“How did that-” he starts, but stops again, looking over at Magnus who does his best not to panic.

“What?”

“The candle. I knocked it over just now,” Alec says, reaching a tentative hand out to take the candle and hold it up, inspecting it from several angles.

“It doesn’t look like you did. You must’ve imagined it. Maybe it’s time you get some rest,” Magnus suggests innocently.

“Are you saying I _imagined_ the candle floating just now?” Alec questions.

“I didn’t see anything,” Magnus lies, and immediately feels terrible for it. “And it’s upright now, so…” he shrugs. “Our eyes play tricks on us when we’re exhausted.”

Alec doesn’t seem convinced, but he drops the subject for now, and Magnus excuses himself for a moment under the pretense of using the garderobe. Instead, he waits until he’s in the hallway, making sure it’s entirely clear before allowing the familiar blue magic to form in his palm. He’s immediately filled with a sense of pure joy for the first time since he arrived here.

It’s short-lived as the small ball of magic leaves his hand and hits the wall across from him, charring the stone there upon impact. Magnus is quick to reel back in whatever residual magic he has control over with a frown. Okay, so not _quite_ back to the way he was before, but he can work with this.

At least, he thinks he can. Controlling it proves to be more difficult than he first imagined. He also has to use it in front of Alec more often than he’s comfortable with, but for some reason, there seems to be nothing but near-misses and accidents everywhere Alec turns for the first week after Magnus gets that first spark of magic back.

It starts when Alec nearly drops a kettle of scalding hot water, and again when a shot during archery practice comes perilously close to hitting an observing Isabelle. Magnus can’t remember ever seeing Alec stray far from the bullseye itself, let alone miss his mark so completely before. Each time Magnus uses his magic to subtly avert catastrophe, and almost gives himself away when they’re riding back in from the village and Alec’s horse rears back and bucks him off. Magnus cushions Alec’s fall to the ground by creating a thick patch of clover for him to land on.

The look Alec gives him, staring up from the ground where he fell entirely unharmed, feels like he’s staring directly into Magnus’ soul. It’s curious and accusatory all at once.

“Was that here before?” Alec asks, looking from the clover to Magnus. The subtle accusation is there - that he’s asking because he doesn’t think it was there before, but he isn’t positive enough to accuse Magnus of anything more definitive.

“The ground? Yes, Alexander, I believe it was,” Magnus deflects. “Did you hit your head when you fell?”

Alec flushes and frowns. “Not the ground, the- you know what, nevermind.” Alec huffs and grabs the reins of his horse, not getting back on but walking beside it the rest of the way to the castle.

Alexander doesn’t come to dinner that night, or to Magnus’ room, or to breakfast the next morning. Magnus has to assume the worst - that Alexander figured out that Magnus has been using magic, because how could he _not_ , and is currently devising a way to lock him away, or kill him, or _worse_.

Magnus doesn’t know how long he can wait in this stubborn silence of uncertainty, so he seeks Alec out. After asking around, he gets word that he can find him on the roof - a tip that Simon gives him only if he promises to not say Simon is where he got it from - and finds him shooting arrows off of the ledge and towards the treeline.

“Alexander?” Magnus asks. “You’ve been avoiding me.” It isn’t a question, but Alec answers him anyway.

“I have,” Alec says. “And you’ve been lying to me.”

“I don't know what you’re talking about.” Magnus clings desperately to whatever hope he has left of keeping his secret and keeping things between them the way they were.

“Why won’t you just tell me the truth!?” Alec demands, finally snapping. Before Magnus knows what’s happening Alec has his bow raised and releases an arrow directly at him. Magnus brings his hand up and the arrow stops, frozen in the space between them before it drops to the ground. Magnus closes his eyes in defeat, not wanting to see the fear, or terror, or any other number of horrified emotions on Alec’s face now that there’s no doubting what Magnus is.

But when Magnus opens his eyes again a moment later the only thing he sees on Alec’s face is a look of vindication. “You have powers.”

“Yes,” Magnus admits.

“Magic?”

“Yes.” Magnus knows there’s no point in denying now.

“I knew it! Isabelle didn’t believe me but I _knew_ it!” Alec drops the bow to the ground and walks closer to Magnus. “Can I see it? Properly?”

Magnus hesitates, wondering if this is some sort of trap. “What do you mean, you knew it?”

“Well, I couldn’t be completely certain. When Simon told me someone from Edom was here I had to see for myself, but then you seemed so normal when you first arrived that I thought I had to be mistaken.” Alec explains. “Until recently. I kept trying to catch you but I was always a second too late, and you just kept denying it.”

“So you shot an _arrow_ at me?!” Magnus demands, voice rising in slightly delayed anger over the trap he was caught in. “What if you were wrong?!”

Alec has the decency to look apologetic. “I was pretty certain,” he reminds Magnus. “And I didn’t aim for anything vital. You would’ve been fine.”

This is not at all how Magnus thought this conversation was going to go. “Wait,” he says, something Alec said before just now clicking. “You knew before we even met?”

“Sort of. I could never find much information on Edom beyond the fact that it wasn’t of this realm. An old teacher of mine hinted at it being demonic before making me swear to never ask about it again.” Alec’s eyes shine with curiosity, still looking expectantly at Magnus’ hands.

Magnus allows all of this information to sink in before he speaks again. Alec had some idea of what he is, suspicions of where he’s from at the very least, and yet he not only invited him into the castle but allowed him to stay and trusted him to advise.

It means Alec isn’t going to turn him away for who he is because he knew all along.

Slowly Magnus conjures a flicker of blue magic from his fingertips, forming it between his hands into an orb. He moves it left, then right, and then directs it over the edge of the wall in a path similar to Alec’s own arrows before.

“Amazing,” Alec breathes, and somehow Magnus is still surprised that he’s not running as fast as he can in the opposite direction.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Magnus asks.

“Accusing someone of being from another realm isn’t something you do on a hunch,” Alec points out. “I was hoping you’d trust me enough to tell me on your own time.”

“I wanted to,” Magnus admits. “I almost did a number of times… But after keeping it from you for this long I was afraid if I told you now I’d scare you away.”

Alec huffs out a laugh and crosses the space between them, taking Magnus’ hands in his own. “No part of you could scare me away, Magnus.”

Thinking of Asmodeus, and the mission that he still has set out before him to accomplish, Magnus wishes Alec’s words were true. Instead, he distracts himself by stealing a kiss from Alexander while they’re standing so close, feeling more at ease with the weight of one less secret weighing on him now.

“Not that I’m complaining, but why doesn’t the idea of demonic magic worry you?” Magnus almost doesn’t want to ask, but he has to. Alec should be concerned if not outright terrified, and until Magnus knows why he isn’t it’s going to bother him too much to enjoy anything else.

“I trust you,” Alec admits. “I don’t know why, but I do.”

Magnus doesn’t have time to dwell on the implications of that, however, because Alec is already tugging him along back towards the stairs.

\---

Despite their intimate relationship, Magnus doesn’t stay at the castle. Alec asks him to move in once and seems surprised (and more than a little hurt) when Magnus declines. They may have an increasingly close connection but there’s a certain commitment to the idea of _living_ at the castle, and Magnus knows that he’s only going to break Alec’s heart in the end. After all, this is still a mission and Magnus has a job to do when all is said and done. He convinces himself that keeping this one wall between them is enough.

Magnus refuses to allow himself to make this place his home.

At least now that enough of his magic has returned that he can portal to and from the castle rather than making the trip by horseback. Alec, as it turns out, made quite the spectacle of announcing his attraction to men a few years prior when his parents attempted to force him into a marriage for political gain. As such he hides none of his affections for Magnus in private or public. They don’t talk about the future and Magnus convinces himself that it’s just a little fun for now, nothing serious, as he navigates his role as part-advisor, part-beau with flawless ease.

If only the rest of their lives fell into place so easily.

As fall turns to winter, the conditions of the kingdom quickly decline. Alec is reluctant to turn to any other neighboring kingdoms for aid after one or two declined requests: one in particular from Idris seems to anger Alec more than the others, and it’s only then that Magnus learns of Alec’s familiarity with the prince there. The support from the Underhills was one of Alec’s biggest hopes, and the loss of that guts him.

While Magnus doesn’t blame Alec for his reluctance to reach out to others it doesn’t leave many other options, and there are rumors circulating that perhaps the only true solution to their problems is the very thing Alec fought so hard against years before - a political marriage.

“I'll do it,” Isabelle volunteers one day. “Simon will understand.”

Her not-so-secret flirtations with the squire boy haven’t gone unnoticed, but while they’re still new Magnus knows that poor Simon would be devastated to hear their conversation take this particular turn.

“Absolutely not,” Alec says, shooting the idea down before anything can come of it. “If anyone is throwing away the rest of their lives for the sake of an alliance it’s going to be me,” Alec points out, but quickly follows that declaration with, “And if I’m not, then you certainly aren’t. We’ll think of something else.”

Magnus feels guilty for not being able to help more than he already is. Alec was, understandably, disappointed to find out that Magnus’ magic can’t simply summon things out of nothing. He can’t create riches to wipe away debts or create food out of thin air. Magnus considers reaching out to his father but refuses to risk it - if he were following his father’s plan then he wouldn’t be trying to strengthen the mundanes. In fact, right now it should be easy to overpower them, to convince the people to put him in charge entirely considering the only things to improve have done so since he arrived as a direct result of his influence. (And sure, because of his magic, which is an unfair basis of comparison as Alexander and Isabelle were doing the best they could before him with what they had at their disposal).

It’s the perfect set-up for victory… and yet he would rather remain by Alec’s side, strengthening him rather than overpowering him.

It’s in this moment, while Alexander and Isabelle continue to debate beside him though their words fade to background noise in his mind, that one thing becomes startlingly clear to Magnus: he’s in love with Alexander.

“Magnus?” Alec’s voice breaks through his thoughts. “Is everything alright?”

Magnus shakes his head to clear it from his reverie. “Yes, darling, everything’s fine,” he says swallowing thickly, not sure if that answer is the truth or not. Falling in love was never part of the plan.

\---

The stronger Magnus’ own magic comes back the more strain he can feel in the distance between himself and Edom. The other side effect this has is that his magic can very easily sense the only other magic around - Lorenzo’s - despite the distance between Alicante and the nearest Kingdom… if that’s even the one Lorenzo ended up in. Magnus ignores the connection, for the most part, something he’s done for centuries now but which was much easier in Edom with magic pulsing all around him and much more difficult now that it’s the _only_ other magic around.

Except it isn’t, not entirely. There’s something else Magnus can sense though he can’t quite put his finger on it. For a little while he thinks it might be the lingering probes of Lilith or Asmodeus checking in on their sons, but he thinks he’d be able to tell their magic apart from this weaker one. He almost forgets about it until the day he senses such a strong pulse of magic that it ripples through him, causing enough shock that he stops mid-step in the hallway.

Alec doesn’t notice for a few seconds before turning back. “Magnus? What’s wrong?”

Magnus frowns. “I just felt-” he starts, but stops. He can’t describe what he felt because he never experienced anything like it before… it’s almost as if he felt the _aftershocks_ of a spell so intense it rippled through the world around it. He’s trying to think of how to best articulate it when they’re both distracted by the sound of screeching outside.

Alec makes it to the window first, staring in horror at the sky. When Magnus arrives a moment later he sees why - there’s something in the sky that, at first glance, looks to be a dragon. And it is, technically, but Magnus recognizes it for what it truly is: a demon. It’s one of Lilith’s, he can tell immediately. Watching the inky black of its skin stand starkly against the grey clouds in the sky as it lets out another bellowing cry, this time accompanied by a jet of flames from its mouth, Magnus watches the demon’s wings spread wide. Magnus tenses, ready to use his magic to defend himself against it under the assumption that Lilith must have sent it after him.

But the demon doesn’t come towards him at all - it gains more height and takes off in the opposite direction, over the forests and hills to the west.

Now Magnus knows what that ‘something else’ he could sense was, and even as it flies away from him Magnus feels a chill spread down his spine.

“No,” Alec breaths out. “No, it can’t be.”

“Alexander…” Magnus starts slowly.

“I thought Father had it killed,” Alec says quietly, staring after the demon.

“You knew it was here?” Magnus questions, positive he misheard.

“When I was a little boy some hunters captured it. It was weak and injured, and I was just a kid who felt bad for a hurt animal, so I would sneak into the cave they chained it up in to keep it company. Sometimes it spoke, hissing out this guttural language I couldn’t understand, but it said the word ‘Edom’ more than once. That was when I asked Hodge about it; he shared a few stories he said were just old wives tales, and then Mother found out and I was told to stop asking about it in no uncertain terms. I snuck back a few more times until father caught me and banned me from going back there. He told me he killed it.” Alec’s brows furrow, eyes narrowing dangerously. “He must’ve moved it somewhere else because I went back anyway but it was gone.”

Magnus tries to imagine a demon locked away for decades, only to finally break free. “He should’ve killed it,” Magnus agrees. “If it was held captive and tortured here I’m surprised it didn’t stay for revenge. Demons aren’t very intelligent, but they can be quite petty.” If this one was capable of speech then it was likely trained by Lilith herself, a detail he doesn’t add out loud.

“Will it come back?” Alec asks, and as he finally turns away from the window to face him Magnus can see the fear in his eyes clearly now.

“I don’t know. It seemed pretty focused on whatever’s in that di-” Magnus starts to say, however his words drop off abruptly. In all the excitement he nearly forgot what made them stop here in the hallway in the first place: that shockwave of magical energy he felt in his very core. Something so strong that, if it reached him, is likely what called out to the demon.

“Alexander, how far away is the nearest Kingdom in that direction?” Pointing to the west, where the demon went toward, Magnus knows it’s the direction he arrived from when he first got to Alicante. Which means if Lorenzo went in the opposite direction…

“Idris is about two, maybe three days by carriage,” Alec states.

If Lorenzo didn’t change course after they set off then that’s probably where he ended up. And if Magnus’ suspicions about what that pulse of magic he just felt are right, then he has a pretty good idea exactly where that demon is heading.

“You think the dragon is going to Idris?” Alec asks, catching on to the train of thought behind Magnus’ question before Magnus speaks again.

“They did decline your request for relief aid without so much as an audience to plead your case. Perhaps it isn’t such a terrible thing - you could look at it as karma,” Magnus tries to offer. For all he knows Lorenzo summoned the damned creature himself, perhaps that was the whole point of the magic he felt. If Magnus hadn’t been seriously considering allowing Lorenzo to win simply to try and spare Alexander and Alicante the fate Asmodeus has planned for them, he might be more inclined to not care what happens to his rival or the neighboring village.

As it stands, he has quite the vested interest in Lorenzo succeeding over himself, which means he doesn’t particularly want the entire neighboring kingdom to be burned to the ground. He doesn’t know if the demon was intentionally summoned or not, but it’s too large of a wildcard to leave to chance.

“I’m friends with the Prince of Idris,” Alexander says. “He’s a good man. As cruel as his parents are, I would never wish harm upon him or his people.” There’s a heavy pause after the words. Magnus remains silent, allowing Alec to think and allowing both of them to process everything that happened so quickly. “There’s no way to warn them in time, we’ll never make it there before the dragon. Dammit,” Alec curses, balling his hand into a fist and hitting it against his thigh in frustration.

Magnus bites down on his lower lip, looking very clearly torn between saying something he’s thinking and keeping the words to himself. One look at the distress on Alec’s face makes his decision for him.

“There is a way that we might be able to get there in time. But it may be dangerous. My magic isn’t back to full strength yet and if this goes wrong…” Magnus trails off because he doesn’t particularly want to think about the potential variety of possible consequences. “Would you risk your life for this friend?”

Alec hesitates. “It’s my father’s fault they’re in danger now,” he says. “If not out of the obligation of our friendship, I owe it to them as a leader responsible for his kingdom and its mistakes.”

Magnus nods. “I can create a portal, but it can only take me places I’ve been. If you step into it first and think _very clearly_ of a place you’ve been in Idris, it should take us there.”

“What’s the part that can go wrong?” Alec asks reluctantly.

“I’ve never had anyone other than myself control the exit point of a portal before. If your mind wanders for even the briefest moment there’s no telling where it will end up. And if this doesn’t work, we could both end up in limbo with no way out.” Magnus doesn’t sugar-coat it because this is serious. This is, quite literally, life and death, both for Alec and himself... and potentially the people of Idris with the demon headed their way.

“You should stay,” Alec says abruptly. “If something goes wrong, if I mess this up-”

“You won’t,” Magnus says, surprised by the confidence with which he says it. “And I’m not letting you go alone. If you do end up in Idris you’re going to need my help to stop it - warning them isn’t going to be enough.”

Alec paces back and forth in the hall and while Magnus doesn’t rush his decision there’s no denying the nervous impatience in the way his entire body tenses. Stay or go, it’s Alec’s decision, but if he doesn’t make it soon then it’ll hardly matter.

After a few minutes of mostly silence (and a bit of Alec talking to himself under his breath), Alec stops walking abruptly. “Open the portal.”

Magnus gives one curt nod and takes a step back, using his magic to open a swirling oval of magic against the stone wall.

“Close your eyes and form a clear image of exactly where you want to arrive. As many details as possible. And then keep that image, and don’t think of anywhere - or anyone - else. You’ll need complete focus. I’ll be right behind you.” Magnus isn’t sure this is going to work when Alec takes two steps forward and then pauses, hesitant. He’s about to say that it isn’t too late to change his mind when Alec takes a deep breath and stalks quickly toward the portal, disappearing through it in an instant.

Before he can lose him Magnus does the same, praying he isn’t making the biggest mistake of his entire life as closes his eyes and steps into the portal.


	5. Hearts and Battles Braved

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With an entire kingdom in danger, Alexander, Magnus, Lorenzo, and Andrew all have very difficult decisions to make on who they can trust and how much of themselves they're willing to sacrifice to save those around them - and each other.

Lorenzo can’t imagine things playing out any more perfect for him. While not officially ‘public’ his relationship with Andrew is doing quite well, and now that he’s in place as Andrew’s personal guard they’re together nearly all of the time. At first, he’s afraid that it might be too much, an oversaturation to the point where they’ll get on one another’s nerves or start to discover all of the little things they hate about each other, but Lorenzo is surprised to find the opposite holds true.

Now that Andrew isn’t fighting to keep a secret from his parents and no longer feels the looming fear of being exposed he starts to be more himself than he ever was before. Lorenzo begins to learn plenty of new things about him but each one is only more endearing than the last. The more Andrew opens up the closer they become, but also the more Lorenzo’s guilt grows over the secret _he_ keeps from Andrew. He can’t be his true self, not without risking everything. It isn’t fair to Andrew but there’s no way around it.

It’s no longer because he’s afraid of losing his mission against Magnus - he knows it should be, and once and a while he tries to convince himself that’s all it is, but at this point, he knows better. The fear Lorenzo feels isn’t over not living up to Lilith’s expectations, it’s over not living up to Andrew’s. It’s over the fear of losing him if, or more likely _when_ , he finds out the truth.

They don’t spend every moment together, either - Lorenzo has a replacement that switches out for him on occasion, and where he previously thought the break would be nice he only finds himself missing Andrew more every time he’s forced away.

It’s during one of those breaks, while Lorenzo is in the kitchen making himself some tea to take back to his room, that he gets a whispered message from one of the servants he befriended during his time working among them.

“Lorenzo,” he hears, turning to see one of the Queen’s handmaidens, Heidi _._

“Yes?” Lorenzo asks, already half-turning to continue on his way before the tea gets cold hoping this isn’t going to take long.

“I shouldn’t be telling you this… and you must keep it to yourself. _Entirely_ to yourself.” Heidi says, putting the emphasis on the fact that ‘entirely’ is surely meant to encompass Andrew as well.

“What is it?” Lorenzo asks, not promising a single thing. He’s already keeping enough from Andrew - too much, he knows - and is reluctant to add to that list unless strictly necessary. But his curiosity is piqued and he remains to listen.

“I’m only telling you because it isn’t often I find someone tolerable in this place, and I’d hate to see something happen to you.”

Lorenzo wants to comment on the ‘tolerable’ part but is too focused on the rest of that sentence. “Why would something happen to me?” He asks the question slowly, already sensing the hesitation grow on Heidi’s part, catching the way her eyes dart around to ensure they’re truly alone.

“There’s going to be an attack on the royal family,” Heidi whispers conspiratorially, a devilish grin on her face. “The people have had enough of the King and Queen taking everything and giving nothing in return. Their pleas have been ignored long enough. It’s time for a coup!”

Andrew. The Prince isn’t specifically brought up but Lorenzo knows for a fact that he’ll be with them the remainder of the day, should the attack be an imminent one.

Andrew’s in danger and Lorenzo isn’t there to protect him.

His heart races, and though Lorenzo does his best to control the expression on his face into one of surprise but not necessarily concern he can’t stop his hands from trembling as he places the tea back down onto the counter.

“What sort of attack?” He asks, hoping the slight waver in his voice is only noticeable to himself.

Heidi eyes him warily now as if realizing she may have told him too much already.

“I’d just stay away from the dining hall if I were you,” is all she says in reply before turning and leaving.

Lorenzo checks the time, notes that Andrew and his parents are likely sitting down for dinner as they speak, and takes off in a sprint towards the hall.

He doesn’t know what sort of attack is being planned so he has no idea what to expect when he arrives. Will there be weapons? Poisoned food? Fire? Perhaps the attack isn’t even planned for now and he’s going to show up and look like an absolute fool. He’s already focusing deep within himself, pulling at the magic that’s returned to him and willing every last ounce of it to be present and ready, buzzing gently under his skin.

He makes it to the dining hall and throws the doors open, sending them clattering against the wall on either side of him with a thunderous echo. Silverware drops and eyes turn to stare at him in surprise - he can already see the disapproving glances of the King and Queen, the King’s eyes rolling in annoyance and the Queen shaking her head.

“What’s the meaning of this?” King Underhill demands. It’s in that moment that Lorenzo realizes that he has a choice: he can warn them all, or he can call Andrew away and leave the King and Queen - the true targets of this potential crime - to meet whatever fate may befall them. He wouldn’t mind watching karma fall into place for the way they both treated him in the past… and still do, to a certain extent. They aren’t good people, not by a long shot. But do they deserve death?

“What is it?” Andrew asks a moment after, already standing and walking towards him.

“I just got word,” Lorenzo explains, the words coming out between huffs of breath he’s still trying to catch. “Someone’s planning an-”

It’s as far as he gets before there’s the sound of an explosion. It’s distinct, a noise much louder than the slamming of the doors a moment or two before, and it doesn’t stop with a single bang. There’s another, and then another, until the walls around them rumble with the constant shifting of broken stone. The fourth one is the largest and it explodes the wall directly to the right of the dining table outward with it’s force.

“Get down”!

Lorenzo reacts instinctively. His magic stretches to cover from himself outward, moving closer to Andrew so as to focus the strongest of the barrier around the two of them. The King and Queen both move for cover under the table and Lorenzo does his best to extend his magic over them as well - they’re close, but not close enough, and he knows that to maintain it throughout the remainder of the fallout he’s going to need to preserve every bit of strength he has to extend.

Looking over to make sure Andrew is safe within the barrier is a mistake; Andrew’s eyes are wide and horrified, not at the surrounding explosions but at the sight of Lorenzo so casually wielding his magic, the golden yellow holding form steadily over them from where it extends from his hands.

Lorenzo closes his eyes as he strains against the pressure of the room collapsing down around them, shifting from standing to kneeling in order to conserve as much energy as possible. The walls and ceiling are high enough that once the structure begins to crumble there’s little that can be done to stop it, and mounds of stone pile on top of and around them - Lorenzo can see it through the golden haze of his magic, feel the weight of it pressing down and threatening to break through. The sound of new explosions continues, and just as the final blast occurs and new pieces of debris fall around them he isn’t sure he’s going to be able to hold it together throughout the entirety of the attack.

Lorenzo can hear the screams of the people around them, both in nearby areas of the castle and outside, but it’s one terrified cry that pierces through the noise to reach him clear as day: Andrew’s.

That’s when Lorenzo reaches not only deep inside of himself, but also pulls from whatever he can in this world around him and his strained connection to Edom. He doesn’t expect that reach-out of magic to connect with something else, and he certainly doesn’t expect the ripple of magical force field he expels with a final, deep cry that not only strengthens the shield around them but actually pushes back against the falling debris, sliding it off and away to the sides of the room.

As the dust settles around him the shield flickers and fades completely, and Lorenzo collapses fully onto the ground.

He isn’t sure he can summon the energy to open his eyes, let alone stand and defend himself as the confused shouting reaches his ringing ears.

“Look what he’s done!” The Queen screams.

“He _saved_ us!” Andrew defends, and Lorenzo could cry with relief that his first reaction isn’t one of complete disdain.

“We nearly died and he _knew_ , the way he came barging in here-”

“He came to protect us, Mother! If it weren’t for him we’d all be dead!”

“He’s a _monster_. You knew, and you let him into our Kingdom, into our _home_ -” The King says, and Lorenzo flinches at the words.

“I didn’t,” Andrew says then, his voice much quieter now. “I didn’t know.”

“So he lied to you all this time. Tricked his way into your life under false pretenses and deceit.”

And there’s nothing Lorenzo can say to that, because it isn’t a lie. That’s how it started and by all technical accounts the King is entirely correct, even if Lorenzo has long since given up on following through on that plan or his original intentions…

“I’m sorry,” Lorenzo says quietly, eyes still closed. He doesn’t need to open them to know that everyone is staring at him expectantly, to feel the judgement of their gazes. “You were never supposed to find out this way.”

“Was I supposed to find out at all?” Andrew demands. “Look at me, Lorenzo!”

Lorenzo’s eyes snap open at the flash of anger, not entirely undeserved, aimed at him. “I wasn’t hiding it before. When I first arrived I’d lost my powers, I wasn’t sure I’d ever get them back. They only recently began to return to me.” He doesn’t like that the King and Queen are present for this conversation but he knows better than to think he can walk away from this and pick it back up again somewhere more private. The sound of guards making their way toward them is clear and getting closer, and there isn’t much time before they’re here. Will they be ordered to arrest him? Will he have to defend himself, to fight his way free?

Will he have to become the monster they claim him to be?

“Once they returned I feared what might happen to me, and to us, if they were discovered. So I kept them hidden.” It’s the only truth that matters right then, though Lorenzo knows it’s too little, too late.

“But you exposed yourself. To save me.” Andrew’s words are impossibly soft as he meets Lorenzo’s eyes and holds his gaze, searching.

“Of course,” Lorenzo confirms, just as the guards arrive. “Whatever you have to do now, I understand. But know that I have to protect myself, too. I’m just glad you’re okay.”

“Restrain that man-” The King begins without hesitation, but Andrew steps between the arriving guards and Lorenzo just as Lorenzo’s hands start to lift from his sides. He drops them again quickly.

“ _That man_ ,” Andrew spits out, eyes narrowed at anyone who so much as dares to look their direction. “Just saved my life. Furthermore--”

His words are cut short when the air beside them crackles with energy, a portal forming to their right. Lorenzo recognizes it immediately. What he doesn’t recognize is the person who steps out of it, disoriented and stumbling onto a pile of rubble, moving with unsure steps until he hits even ground.

“Alec?” Andrew says, blinking several times in disbelief. This ‘Alec’ is followed by a much more familiar face for Lorenzo, though that familiarity doesn’t erase his own shock at seeing him now, and _here_ of all places.

“Magnus,” Lorenzo says, watching as Magnus finds his footing almost immediately before closing the portal behind him. “What are you doing here?”

“You two know each other?” Alec starts, but shakes his head to cut off his own question. Alec takes in the damage around them and his expression sours. “We’re too late.”

“You knew about the explosions? If Alicante had any role to play in this you’re going to wish you were exiled with your mother,” King Underhill threatens Alec, who suddenly looks less upset and more confused.

“Explosions?” Alec ask.

“There was an attack, one meant to kill me and my family. Explosives planted in the castle,” Andrew explains. “...you didn’t know, did you?”

Alec shakes his head.

“Your day is about to get much worse,” Magnus informs them. “There’s a dragon. We think it was being held captive outside of Alicante before it broke free just now and headed in this direction. It’s big, and it’s fast, and you don’t have much time.”

“Here? Are you certain?” Andrew asks, looking up at the exposed sky through the newly formed holes in the castle’s walls.

“It isn’t just any dragon,” Magnus adds, not to Andrew but to Lorenzo. “It’s a demon, one of Lilith’s. And whatever just happened here, I could feel your magic signature from Alicante, so I’m sure it could, too.”

Lorenzo winces. He can feel Andrew’s eyes on him, and also warily on Magnus and Alec, but always coming back to him, looking for answers. Looking for _the truth_ this time.

All Lorenzo can do is hope that he appreciates the truth once he has it, because there’s no more time for lying and careful coverups, not while one of Lilith’s pet demons is on the way.

“I want both of these men restrained and taken to the holding cells,” The King repeats, pointing at Magnus and Lorenzo. “And Prince Lightwood as well, until we can discern his involvement in all of this.”

The three of them move instinctively closer to one another and Lorenzo is surprised to see Prince Lightwood reach out for Magnus’ hand, and for Magnus to take it just as readily and give it a reassuring squeeze.

“No!” Andrew repeats, moving closer to Lorenzo once more.

There’s hesitation and confusion over the orders, and magic sparks at Lorenzo’s fingertips in anticipation.

That’s when they hear it. It’s a faraway sound at first, the cry of an animal in the distance, but it grows closer much faster than any normal animal should. There’s another cry followed by the shadow of something large passing by overhead, and all eyes are drawn to the figure of a pitch black dragon in the sky, easily visible through the gaping holes of the damaged walls around them.

Lorenzo’s heart, which was racing a moment ago, now stops completely.

The demon cries out as a guard on one of the towers shoots at it. The arrow grazes the demon which turns on the castle with flame, scorching anything and everything in its path. When the stone walls of the castle proves to be disappointing in terms of damage done, the demon turns away and moves along the treeline, following it toward the village.

Heidi appears among the guards and Lorenzo spots her immediately, calling out to her before she can turn and disappear among the chaos.

“Wait!” Lorenzo steps forward, toward the guards. “I’m sure most of you were aware of what was meant to happen here today. You didn’t expect to arrive to find the King and Queen alive and well - just because they aren’t dead doesn’t mean you have to obey them. You wanted a revolution and you may have one yet - but only if you allow us to leave here and ensure there’s a Kingdom left to give back to the people.”

The guards exchange veiled glances, share a few murmured words, and part almost immediately, weapons down. Lorenzo does his best not to look as stunned as he feels because, quite honestly, he hadn’t expected that to work. But it did, and they need to go _now_.

Lorenzo moves forward first, followed by Magnus and then Prince Lightwood. Andrew lingers behind, caught between Lorenzo and his parents.

“The people don’t want my help,” Andrew points out.

Lorenzo can’t imagine how it must feel for Andrew to know how easily his own people would’ve sacrificed him in the name of overthrowing his family’s rule.

“That’s just because they only know you as the King and Queen’s son. They don’t know you as Andrew. Help us. Show them the Prince that _I_ know,” Lorenzo says, his tone just this side of begging.

There’s a moment Lorenzo’s afraid that he’s put too much faith in the bond they’ve shared the past few months, sure that Andrew is going to turn and go back with his parents.

But then Andrew takes a step towards him, reaching out to take his hand as he follows behind Magnus and Alec, and Lorenzo feels surprisingly justified in every decision he’s made today by this one single act.

“We’re going to need to portal ahead of it. Know somewhere in that direction?” Magnus asks him, all eyes turning towards where the demon is flying towards the village.

Lorenzo hesitates. He does, of course but this would be the first bit of magic that Andrew has watched him perform, not counting the shield that took them all by surprise. He’s acutely aware of how quickly Andrew lets go of his hand, whether because he suddenly remembers what that hand is capable of or because he simply anticipates Lorenzo needing it for the portal he doesn't know and he’s too afraid to ask just now.

“Of course,” Lorenzo agrees after a pause. He brings his hands up in front of him and a moment later there’s a swirling golden oval that’s slightly taller than Prince Lightwood. “After you.”

Magnus only hesitates a moment before stepping through, followed quickly by Alec. Andrew looks at the magic warily.

“It’s safe,” Lorenzo insists. “I swear.” His words hold an unspoken plea of _‘please don’t be afraid of me’_.

“I can just… walk through it?” Andrew questions, moving closer to it.

“Yes. It’ll come out at the shop of the lady with the soaps you love so much,” Lorenzo says, and that much makes a flicker of a smile cross Andrew’s lips.

“We have a lot to talk about,” Andrew says. “When this is all over. “

“I know,” Lorenzo agrees. Andrew just nods before he readies himself and steps through the portal with Lorenzo following close behind.

As long as there’s an aftermath to discuss, Lorenzo is determined to remain optimistic.

* * *

Magnus doesn’t know what he expected after their arrival in Idris, but it’s not any part of what they actually discover here. From the explosions that rattled the castle just moments before their arrival to the clear tension between Lorenzo and Prince Underhill, Magnus can’t quite shake the feeling that there’s a lot going on here he’s missing.

Lorenzo’s portal opens up in front of a small shop in town, far enough away from the castle that they seem to be well ahead of the dragon.

Once the four of them are all through Magnus wants nothing more than to pull Lorenzo aside and ask him a million and a half questions, but he knows he shouldn’t. The look in his rival’s eyes tells him that Lorenzo is thinking the same thing.

“I’m sorry to hear about your mother,” Prince Underhill offers to Alec.

“Are you?” Magnus questions. “Because when Alicante came to you for aid-”

“That wasn’t him-” “That wasn’t me-”

Both Alec and Andrew begin at the same time and Magnus laughs. Perhaps this Prince Underhill isn’t as bad as Magnus’s pessimism expected despite what Alec said earlier.

“I owe so much to Alec,” Andrew says. “If it were up to me I would’ve granted every request.”

“Let’s get out of this alive and we’ll see what we can do about making it even,” Alec offers, uncharacteristically casual, and it strikes Magnus that this is the first time he’s watching Alexander with someone who he considers a _friend_. He’s seen him with Isabelle, and with Simon who falls into that category somewhat despite his employ, but this is different. This is nice, all things considered.

“Deal,” Andrew agrees, eyes scanning the sky for the first sign of the demon again.

Magnus watches the exchange between the two mundane princes and can’t help but wonder what place he could ever really have here in this world. Is he being naive in thinking he can exist among them after this, after being exposed for what he truly is to help them? The reaction the King and Queen of Idris gave at the very sight of him and Lorenzo tells him that the answer is no - that this may be the end of his journey here.

Magnus can’t imagine starting his mission over in another Kingdom, but he can’t imagine going back to Edom so soon. He realizes it’s because neither of those options involve Alexander and pushes the thought away quickly.

Magnus takes the opportunity to grab Lorenzo by the arm and pull him just out of earshot of their mundane counterparts.

“Did you summon this demon here?” Magnus asks. There’s no accusation in his tone, just curiosity. “If you did and this is your ploy to win, you may consider the victory yours and call off the dragon.” He attempts to sound casual, as if admitting defeat this easily could be casual without being suspicious.

Lorenzo looks him over warily. “I didn’t,” he admits. Magnus thought everything he saw before, those touching moments of reassurance between Lorenzo and Andrew, were all just part of the game the way it was meant to be. After all, Lorenzo would normally stop at nothing to prove himself to Lilith, and to get the upper hand on Magnus in a challenge. But it seems as if there may be more honesty behind those actions than Magnus first imagined.

“And I don’t particularly want to win any more,” Lorenzo adds, almost too quietly to hear, even for Magnus who is standing mere inches away.

“That’s funny,” Magnus says just as quietly. “Because neither do I.”

The silence that falls between them at those confessions is a heavy one. They’re both well aware of the implications of what they just admitted to but Magnus has to be absolutely certain before he makes one more move here. He’s leaving himself vulnerable, not just in general but to a person he previously wouldn’t so much as turned his back on, let alone trusted.

“So what do we do now?”

There’s a screech overhead, the black draconic form of the demon gravitating instinctively toward the two of them, drawn to their power and the familiarity of home.

“Now we fight,” Lorenzo says. “For ourselves...” he glances over at Andrew and Alexander, and Magnus follows his gaze as he adds, “...and for them.”

\---

The battle isn’t an easy one. Despite being ‘held captive’ for so many years as Alexander claimed, Magnus is more convinced that the demon in question had simply gone into hibernation, biding its time and its strength. It’s hardly weak or injured and is in fact one of the strongest demons he’s ever encountered.

It doesn’t help that his magic still isn’t back in full force, and the amount he’s used lately in addition to the portal to get here hasn’t left him with as much reserve as he’d like for an encounter of this nature.

Lorenzo doesn’t seem to be faring much better. Magnus can tell that he’s giving everything he has with each burst of yellow he sends at the demon, but after how much magic he depleted shielding himself and Andrew during the explosion back at the castle it’s obvious that he’s running on fumes.

Alexander and Andrew are doing the best they can to assist, which isn’t much as mundanes, and in reality they’re mostly just getting in the way and giving Magnus and Lorenzo too much of a distraction, their attention split between attacking the demon and making sure the princes aren’t in danger. Alec lands a few good shots with his bow, and Andrew expertly wields a sword whenever the demon gets close enough, but the mortal weapons do little to harm a demon of this size.

Magnus barely manages a barrier over Alexander and Andrew when one of Alec’s arrows draws the demon’s attention and it dives, a spout of fire swirling and twisting from its mouth towards them. The demon, following the magic, turns on Magnus next and he has to drop the protective magic to channel it into an attack, hitting the demon from behind as he raises a small shield over himself. He isn’t quite fast enough this time around and the fire catches the side of his face, singeing his hair and the top of his cloak.

Falling to the ground with a cry Magnus curls around himself in pain, hoping Lorenzo is quick enough to cover him while he does his best to heal the worst of the immediate damage. Alexander is by his side in a second, his expression only easing when he sees the burn on Magnus’ face heal itself over with a lap of blue magic.

“We can’t keep this up much longer,” Magnus says.

“If I could just get it to stay still for half a second I could get a shot in to its heart - there’s a break in its protective scales - or whatever they are - on the underside of its chest,” Alec points out.

“Maybe instead of attacking it Lorenzo and I can hold it still long enough for you to get the shot. Lorenzo!” Magnus calls, waving him over.

“We need to freeze it in place, underside exposed, for Alexander to get in a shot to its heart. Think you have enough magic left in you for that?”

“Yeah, I think I can manage. You sure you can make the shot? It’s probably the only chance we’ll get,” Lorenzo asks Alec, and Alec nods confidently. Magnus doesn’t need to question - he’s seen Alec shoot enough to know he can.

“Give me your arrow,” Magnus says, running his hand down the length of it with extra attention to the arrowhead to give it a little extra power. “We’ll go in opposite directions. Alexander, you stay in the middle and call it towards you. We’ll hold it in place low enough for-”

“Lorenzo!” Magnus turns to look at the sound of Andrew’s cry - in their focus on one another they hadn’t noticed the demon, who had previously taken to the sky to collect itself after the last hit it took, turning back in a steady dive towards them.

But Andrew had. And, in a split-second attempt to distract the demon, did the only thing he could - he threw his sword through the air to pierce the stomach of the dragon mere feet off the ground.

It worked. It worked too well, because instead of retreating again to recover it turned direction immediately towards where the sword came from, toward a now defenseless Andrew Underhill. Before any of them have a chance to react the demon’s claws dig into him, slashing down his chest and stomach before tossing him aside where he falls to the ground, unmoving.

“Andrew!” Lorenzo cries out, and Magnus watches him immediately turn to rush toward Prince Underhill before stopping him with a hand around his wrist.

“Lorenzo, wait! If we don’t end this now this ends with all of us on the ground. Freeze, arrow, then we heal your boyfriend.”

Lorenzo looks as if Magnus might as well have just signed an order for Andrew’s death, and Magnus has to admit that it’s not looking good as a small pool of blood already begins to form where Andrew fell. But they all knows he’s right - if they use the last of their magic to heal Andrew now, then they’re all dead.

The dragon flies upward again, readying itself for another dive toward Andrew, when Alexander points at it and shouts “There’s no more time, do it now!”

The angle isn’t ideal but Magnus and Lorenzo both react instinctively, bolts of blue and yellow magic racing through the air to join together, slowing the dive the demon already began before stopping it completely. As they do Alexander runs towards it, maneuvering himself as close as possible before letting off his shot with the arrow Magnus spelled for him. He follows it in rapid succession with five more, two more to the heart and three to the head, the final two piercing through each of the demon’s eyes.

There’s a fire behind Alec’s eyes that Magnus doesn’t think he’s ever seen there before. He doesn’t have much time to dwell on it because just as quickly the dead weight of the demon is sinking down from their hold and Alec is running full speed to grab Andrew and pull him out of the way as it plunges the final distance between where it was stopped and the earth below.

This time they keep one eye on the demon even as they run past it, watching the ichor drain out of its wounds, no sign of life left in its body.

The three of them converge over Andrew immediately. Lorenzo is already kneeling next to him, channeling as much magic as he can into him, but it isn’t nearly enough. Magnus can see the flicker in the golden touches, watches them grow less and less pronounced with every passing second before they fade completely and Lorenzo curses, slamming his fist into the ground. Magnus moves to take over but even as small patches of skin attempt to knit themselves back together he’s bleeding out too much, too quickly, and Magnus doesn’t have the power left to stop it completely.

Magnus can feel his entire body sway as he fights to keep the stream of healing magic steady.

“You have to save him,” Lorenzo pleads, not bothering to hide the break of emotion in his voice.

“What can I do?” Alexander asks, kneeling beside Magnus and reaching out a hand to rest on his shoulder in an attempt to steady him.

Magnus, despite feeling himself on the verge of collapse, is hesitant to tell Alexander what he needs from him. Giving over one’s strength is a very intimate act, a sign of complete trust, and while he thinks they may be on that same level it’s still a lot to ask of anyone.

One look back down at Andrew as the pool of blood spreads and the color continues to drain from his skin, and Magnus knows he has no other choice.

“Help me,” he says, voice strained and weak. “I need your strength.” Magnus holds out his right hand to Alexander, the left remaining open over Andrew’s chest, focused on the worst of the wound.

It turns out his concern was entirely unwarranted - Alexander takes his extended hand without hesitation, fingers locking together. “Take what you need,” Alec offers. Magnus nods, pulling energy from Alexander a little bit at a time, careful not to lose himself in the surge of power their shared bond gives him.

The effect on Andrew is almost instantaneous. The bleeding slows significantly, the tears down his skin patching over slowly but surely the bolder and more focused Magnus’ magic becomes. Magnus continues to take as much strength as he can from Alexander without risking his life in the process. Even as Magnus tries to pull back he can feel Alexander pushing forward, offering more, practically forcing his energy and strength into Magnus. Magnus doesn’t stop until he can’t see any more open wounds and Andrew’s breathing evens out, his eyes finally blinking open slowly.

The moment the magic fades from his fingertips Magnus collapses, falling into the arms of Alexander who is right beside him to lean on.

“You alright?” Alec asks him, and Magnus merely nods before closing his eyes and allowing the exhaustion to finally overtake him.

* * *

**Epilogue**

“You’re… okay…” are the first words Andrew manages to mutter when his eyes open and he coughs a slightly concerning amount of blood out of his mouth. Lorenzo is so relieved and exasperated by the words that he could cry.

“I think I'm the one who should be saying that about you, dear,” Lorenzo says softly, running a hand through Andrew’s curls, trying desperately not to fixate on the blood staining his torn clothing. He’s fine. He’s going to be fine. “That was incredibly foolish of you.”

“But it worked, didn’t it?” Andrew manages, trying to sit up and failing miserably.

“Just rest. We’re going to get both of you back up to the castle.”

“Both?” Andrew asks, and Lorenzo only nods towards where Magnus lay unconscious leaning against Alexander.

“He saved your life. They both did. I tried but I was too weak from earlier, I couldn’t-”

“I think saving my life once a day is more than enough,” Andrew supplies, and while Lorenzo knows he shouldn’t be upset over it, he still is.

Lorenzo watches Andrew carefully, making sure there isn’t any sign that his wounds are more severe than he’s letting on, that perhaps they didn’t heal him as well as they thought, but besides generally looking exhausted Andrew seems, for the most part, fine.

The same goes for all of them right now, Lorenzo supposes.

“We can’t go back to the castle,” Andrew says suddenly. “What if they’re waiting for me. For us?” He shakes his head and Lorenzo can see the defeat there.

“You helped save the entire kingdom, even after they would condemn you to death. I think you’ll find their opinions of you slightly altered now,” Lorenzo says but even as he offers words of comfort he finds it difficult to buy into them completely. He wants to, he truly does, and he knows that what sway he has with the staff of the castle can at least work in Andrew’s favor there. But as for the rest of the kingdom…

People slowly start to make their way out of their homes and shops, keeping a safe distance from the fallen demon and the four who brought it down. They eye Lorenzo and Magnus warily, but not fearfully, Lorenzo notes with pleasant surprise. It’s more than he expects. Possibly more than he deserves.

Some of them must’ve overheard Lorenzo’s words because those closest give a nod of solidarity toward Andrew. “We’ll spread the word of what you’ve done here, Your Highness.” A young man says. “We saw it all!”

“Yes,” an older woman behind him agrees. “No one who wishes to see their people suffer would nearly give their own life to protect them. Perhaps it’s time not for a coup, but a passing down of rule.”

Andrew tenses beside him, Lorenzo can see a series of conflicting emotions ripple across his features in rapid succession. “I couldn’t-” he begins, shaking his head.

“You could,” Alexander speaks up beside them, and Lorenzo startles for he almost forgot the other man was there at all with his focus on Andrew. “I know you can. And so do they,” he adds, glancing at the growing crowd around them.

“And so do I,” Lorenzo adds. He knows it doesn’t hold as much weight as Andrew’s people or old friends but he hopes it counts for something. And judging by the way Andrew’s face lights up at his words he think it just might.

“Then I’ll see what I can do.” Andrew says. “But first, let’s get your friend back up to the castle. It wouldn’t do to thank the man who saved my life by letting him lie on the ground unconscious.”

Andrew starts to rise to his feet, still unsteady in the aftermath of the fight, and Lorenzo quickly offers an arm to help him balance. “I’m afraid I don’t have enough magic back to portal us back to the castle,” he points out. They’re nowhere close to walking distance, especially not given the condition they’re in.

“Then it looks like I got here just in time,” comes a familiar voice, and Lorenzo looks over to see Raj arriving with two horses in tow behind him.

Lorenzo helps Andrew onto one first before climbing up himself, while Alec drapes Magnus carefully over the other before climbing on to ride behind him, keeping his unconscious form steady for the entirety of the ride.

“How do you two know each other?” Alexander asks him about halfway back to the castle, and Lorenzo bites his lip in consideration, not knowing how much he should tell him. Alexander is clearly aware of Magnus’ magic, that much is certain, but how much of where they come from is his truly familiar with? He’s still considering this when Alexander adds, “Are you from Edom as well?”

The question is so casual that it catches Lorenzo entirely off-guard. “He told you?” Lorenzo asks.

“Yes… and no. He did, but he didn’t think I’d recognize it and piece the rest together.” Alec smirks at that, and Lorenzo huffs out a laugh.

“Yes,” he admits. “I am.”

“And where is that?” Andrew asks and Lorenzo tenses behind him. As much as he doesn’t wish to keep secrets from Andrew any longer, after everything that happened he isn’t particularly keen on admitting to his own demonic heritage.

“Another realm,” Alexander offers quickly, sensing his hesitation, and Lorenzo shoots him an appreciative look. “The same one that dragon was from.”

“I always thought those realms were just myths,” Andrew admits.

“Not myths,” Lorenzo confirms. “Just hidden.”

“And will you go back there? This other realm with dragons and magic… it seems much more exciting than staying here to watch a prince fix some broken relations.”

It breaks Lorenzo’s heart to hear the resignation in Andrew’s voice, noting the way he remains seated and looking directly ahead rather than turning to look at Lorenzo as he speaks.

Lorenzo takes it upon himself to reach out a hand and rest it on Andrew’s arm, pulling at him lightly so he turns to look back at him, ensuring Andrew sees the look of honesty in his eyes when he replies, “There’s nowhere I’d rather be than here with you. But I understand, if after everything, you no longer wish for me to remain here.”

Andrew considers his words carefully before speaking again, uttering a phrase Lorenzo remembers from months ago, the first time he nearly left Idris. “I’d like you to stay,” Andrew admits, putting himself back on the line the same way he had once before.

This time there’s no hesitation, no qualifiers, to Lorenzo’s answer. “Then I’d like to stay.”

They make the remainder of the ride in silence. Lorenzo catches Alexander giving him questioning glances now and again, clearly wanting to ask more questions but not wanting to accidentally overstep now that he’s aware Andrew doesn’t know quite as much about Lorenzo as he seems to know about Magnus. Lorenzo wonders if Alec knows of their assignment, of their parents… he, too, has questions he keeps to himself while Magnus is still asleep.

They get back and set Magnus and Alec up to rest in a spare room. Lorenzo remains by Andrew’s side as he takes just enough time to discover that in their absence his parents took their horses from the stable and left, likely to seek refuge and asylum in a kingdom they have alliances with rather than stay to face the consequences of their years of oppressive rule.

Lorenzo asks if Andrew wants to talk about it but the offer is immediately turned down.

“I just want to rest,” Andrew insists. “I want to close my eyes and not think about anything at all, just for a few hours before I have to think about _everything_.”

Lorenzo nods and they get ready for bed in silence, with Lorenzo sliding under the sheets and wrapping himself around Andrew in a comforting embrace without a word.

When he wakes up the following morning it’s to an empty bed. Lorenzo finds Andrew in the destroyed dining hall surveying the damage with Alexander and Magnus.

“You should’ve woken me,” Lorenzo huffs.

“You looked so peaceful,” is the only rebuttal Andrew offers, shrugging.

Making his way over to stand by Andrew’s side he has every intention of leaning in and greeting him with a kiss but hesitates, not entirely sure where they stand. He’s relieved when Andrew leans in first, smiling against his lips.

“I wonder if they even considered waiting for me,” Andrew muses, picking up what must’ve been a conversation to fill Alexander and Magnus in on Idris’ current situation.

“Of course they did,” Lorenzo comforts. “Your father allowed me to stay, after all. They did that for you. If nothing else, they love you.”

“I suppose…” Andrew sighs. “I could follow them. Leave the kingdom to start over again without any remnants of my family’s rule. That was their plan, after all. I’m sure they already have someone chosen to take over, someone much better than I’ll ever be-”

“That isn’t true and you know it,” Lorenzo cuts him off. “You have a good heart, you just weren’t allowed to show it. Now you can.”

“Do you really think I can fix this?” Andrew asks.

“We both can,” Alexander assures him. “We can be better than our parents. If we work together and pull our resources, I think we can fix both of our problems.”

“The aid my father denied you,” Andrew says, eyes cast down for a moment before looking back up resolutely. Lorenzo watches the interaction silently. “If we can get you through the winter-”

“I know a thing or two about earning the support of your people. Isabelle and I can help you redistribute everything your family kept for themselves, if that’s what you want,” Alexander offers. “We’ve been rationing and delegating resources for months now, and that’s with almost nothing. I think I can do plenty with what you’ll have at your disposal.”

“Of course that’s what I want. My parents always did what was best for us. It’s time I do what’s best for the rest of the kingdom for a change.”

Alexander and Andrew begin to discuss a few ideas for the immediate future, and while they do Lorenzo takes the opportunity to pull Magnus aside.

“About the mission…” Lorenzo starts, not quite sure what he wants to say on the matter.

“The mission can rot in Edom,” Magnus says bluntly. “I think we’ve both made it abundantly clear we aren’t about to bring about harm to these mortals.”

“Certainly not these two in particular, it seems,” Lorenzo agrees. “How long do you think we can simply live up here without interference?”

“That likely depends on Lilith. If I know Asmodeus, and unfortunately I do, he’ll leave me be for decades before he starts guilting me for not reaching out to him,” Magnus laughs.

“I can’t say the same for Lilith, but perhaps if I offer the occasional false report I can buy as much time as possible.”

“What do we do if they realize what we’re really doing up here?” This, Lorenzo must admit, is his greatest concern. Not for the repercussions to himself, but for the potential fallout those around them might face.

Magnus only shrugs. “The same thing we’ve always done. We fight for what we want. Except this time we fight together.”

It’s a strange concept, to imagine being on the same side as Magnus instead of fighting against him the way they’re both so used to. Magnus makes it sound so obvious, so simple… and maybe it is.

Because for the first time in a long time Lorenzo isn’t fighting to earn his spot in someone’s affections, because he knows he has a place by Andrew’s side now.

Because for the first time in, well, as long as he can remember, Magnus isn’t loathing the idea of upholding the standards of a title, so long as that title is held by Alexander’s side.

And so the two princes of Edom go back to join their mortal counterparts. The new world they’re building may not be the masterminded conquest Asmodeus and Lilith intended, but Magnus and Lorenzo are certain it'll suit them just fine. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe this entire story is finally out in the world! This is the first long fic I wrote entirely before posting rather than making up update to update, and it was a nice change! I started this idea with some twitter rambling over a year ago, but it took this past NaNo in November to actually sit myself down and finish the whole thing. So many thanks to Zia and Sel who encouraged this from day one, I never would've followed through without you two <3 And thanks to everyone who followed along this month and commented, or those of you just hopping in to read it all at once! It was a lot of fun and I hope you all enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it!
> 
> I wanted to end things here for the main narrative, but I might add a coda or two for some glimpses into a few obviously needed Serious Conversations between these two. but for now, for once in my life, enjoy an angst-less ending ;)

**Author's Note:**

> (Find me on [Tumblr](http://bytheangell.tumblr.com) and also on [Twitter](http://www.twitter.com/By_The_Angell)! <3 I'm still never sure how I feel about giving my fics hashtags but I've been using #TwoPrincesFic to track writing progress&woes, so feel free to use that if you yell at me there!)


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